


Quarks, Quantum Chromodynamics and Other Unproven Theories

by amireal



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-29
Updated: 2009-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-03 23:44:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amireal/pseuds/amireal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I think we stumbled onto some Ancient kid's homework."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quarks, Quantum Chromodynamics and Other Unproven Theories

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [  
> ](http://chopchica.livejournal.com/profile?style=mine)[](http://chopchica.livejournal.com/?style=mine)**chopchica** and [  
> ](http://seperis.livejournal.com/profile?style=mine)[](http://seperis.livejournal.com/?style=mine)**seperis**  
> for the beta. This thing was a monster and I was a bitch. You guys rock. Also, the title of this fic scares me, it's longer than the summary and frankly I highly doubt I'll ever be able to remember it without looking it up first.

"Huh."

 

John palmed his pistol out of habit. "What is it, Rodney?"

 

Rodney shook his head and pressed more buttons as the console in front of him  
changed colors slowly, giving information in a way only the Ancients could have  
programmed. "Huh," he said again, frowning.

 

John knew the day had been too easy. "Rodney?" he prompted again, feeling the  
tension string across his shoulders.

 

"I could have sworn -" Rodney went silent again, punching even more buttons.  
This time a dull thudding sound accompanied the gesture as he pressed with more  
force than was necessary.

 

"Rodney?" Elizabeth's concerned voice came up from behind both of them. John  
supposed that's what he got for fondling his weapon in public.

 

Rodney made a rude noise. "Busy here."

 

John shrugged at Elizabeth's look of concern. "He's not speaking to me either.  
At this point, I'm thinking it might be a handy skill to be able to repeat."

 

"I'm still in the room, you know," Rodney announced, not looking up.

 

"I know," John threw over his shoulder. "It's not like I talk about you when  
you're not around. What would be the fun in that?" The string of tension in his  
back coiled tighter; the longer it took for Rodney to figure out his 'huh', the  
more running for his life John usually had in his future. John really *hated*  
running for his life.

 

Finally, Rodney blew out a large breath, swiveled in his chair and glared. "I'd  
give you a snappy comeback for that, but there are more important things to  
worry about." He tapped a few buttons and a scrolling torrent of data appeared  
on the large screen. "Like these anomalous readings that keep popping up and  
then correcting themselves."

 

John pursed his lips and made a clicking noise in the back of his throat.  
Apparently he had his own bad news noise. "I'm thinking that's not a good  
thing."

 

"Whatever gave you that impression, Colonel?" Rodney eyed him, exasperation  
clear in his every move. "Gee, it's just evidence of internal tampering,  
whatever was I thinking? Let's go on with our lives carefree until we all die in  
the big massive plot we decided to ignore."

 

"Internal tampering, huh?" John thought about that. "I'd have gone for an  
intruder in the city." He watched as Rodney's eyes went wide with surprise,  
before they narrowed with annoyance. John bounced on the balls of his feet and  
grinned. It wasn't his fault that sometimes Rodney couldn't come up with *all*  
of the possible negative sides to a situation.

 

Rodney shook his head abruptly. "I don't think so, Colonel, the tweaks are too  
precise, too quick. Unless there's a ten-thousand year old training programs for  
spies to infiltrate the great city of the ancients, the odds are that its  
someone we know doing something they don't want us to know about."

 

"Rodney." Elizabeth stepped forward. "What exactly are these tweaks doing?"

 

Rodney made a frustrated sound. "I don't know. There are no tracks, just blips  
in data that are slightly incongruous." His fingers raced over the console,  
massaging the inputs with practiced ease. "Most of the time they're not even any  
place I'd worry about, database storage mostly. Once in the diagnostic systems  
for the chair, several in the medical databases, and mostly notably, the bulk of  
the activity is appearing in systems we've yet to fully analyze." Rodney's  
entire stance, despite its comfortable slouch behind the computer, held a line  
of tension in its sloped shoulders.

 

"My spidey sense is tingling," John murmured, jockeying for a better look at the  
screen.

 

"Ignoring that." Rodney pecked at a few more keys. "It's too smooth, it's got to  
be someone who knows these systems and unless we've managed to miss an Ancient  
floating around somewhere, I think one of our people is trying really hard to  
cover something up."

 

John clapped a hand on Rodney's shoulder and gave him a reassuring shake. "Come  
on, Mary Jane, buck up."

 

"Still ignoring you." Rodney took a moment to glare at him. "Elizabeth I think  
that--"

 

"Rodney!" Dr. Zelenka ran into the control room and proceeded to shove Rodney  
out of the way and into John. They tangled with each other, limbs crossing in an  
effort to stay upright.

 

Rodney's chin ended up clanging into John's shoulder painfully and he inhaled  
sharply  an appealing scent wafting into his nose, making him dizzy  
momentarily, his arms going slack. Rodney's body slammed against him for one  
scorching instant before it pulled away.

 

"My jaw! It's broken!"

 

John shook his head and rolled his eyes. "It is not."

 

Rodney rubbed his jaw tenderly. "Well it could have been."

 

"Rodney," Zelenka called. "Pretend to have a life threatening condition later,  
look at this now."

 

Rodney moved away from John to stare at the screen and John let out a small  
breath of relief. His entire left side still burned from the contact and  
focusing his attention was a little difficult, "Whats up, docs?"

 

Shooting him an insufferable look, Rodney pointed at him. "There are so many  
things I could say to that." He turned back to Zelenka. "What is this?"

 

"This," Zelenka pointed excitedly, "is notes."

 

"And that," Rodney pointed, his excitement also on the rise, "is a ZedPM."

 

Elizabeth joined them by the console. "Did you find a ZPM?"

 

Zelenka shook his head. "Better. These are notes on how ZedPM works, how to--"

 

"--make one, or at the very least, how to make the equipment to make one."  
Rodney pointed at the screen. "It looks like, well it looks like a  
twelfth-grade paper on the combustion engine." He squinted. "I think we stumbled  
onto some Ancient kid's homework."

 

"What is this we?" Zelenka's insulted voice asked.

 

John didn't pay attention to the slight. There were more important things to  
worry about. "You mean there's a chance in hell you two might understand it?"

 

Rodney turned to him, brow furrowed. "Whats that supposed to mean?"

 

"Nothing Rodney," John sighed. "Just that maybe this is a good place to start?  
Understand the basics before trying for the hard stuff."

 

"That's assuming this paper is even worth the space it's saved on," Rodney  
grumped.

 

Zelenka piped up. "There are teacher's notes at the bottom."

 

Rodney spun back to the computer. "How can you tell?"

 

"It works remarkably similar to Office's draft function."

 

"Oh good, we're doomed."

 

******

 

While Elizabeth, Rodney, and Zelenka holed up in a lab translating and  
understanding their new discovery, John reorganized the patrols. He wasn't happy  
with that 'huh' Rodney had had earlier.

 

Odds were if someone was doing something they shouldn't be doing, they were  
going to *be* someplace they shouldn't be being.

 

The science labs were all a twitter, muted sounds of excitement were still going  
on well into John's own patrol. Being in charge meant he could pick his own  
route, cross-cutting through the other patrols and allowing him to follow his  
gut.

 

He wandered the lesser used corridors, the ones on the fringes of their spaces,  
where not every room was in use, and small cobwebs still rested in the corners.  
Somewhere between the extra storage areas and the unofficially designated VIP  
areas for state visits, the hair on the back of John's neck began to stand up.

 

Something spooky was definitely going on. "I don't suppose you wanna talk,  
whoever you are?"

 

A nearby console flashed at him and made him jump. John shook his head and hoped  
no one had seen that. "I think I'm going to put in for a vacation."

 

The console flashed again.

 

"What the hell?" John approached it warily. "If you blow up on me, I'm going to  
be pissed."

 

It flashed for a third time.

 

He stepped up to it carefully and the screen continued to flicker randomly. John  
tapped it on what they had discovered was the 'reset corner' and waited. It  
stayed blank.

 

Walking away backwards, John kept a wary glance on the terminal and made a  
mental note to talk to Rodney about it later.

 

******

 

The meeting that was called to update them all on the ZPM discovery happened  
early the next morning. Elizabeth came in looking like she'd had a late night.  
Rodney and Zelenka didn't look like they'd slept at all.

 

In fact, it looked like they'd mainlined all of the coffee on Atlantis.  
Intravenously.

 

"Gentlemen?" Elizabeth prompted, "Any success after I left?"

 

Zelenka nodded excitedly. "Yes, it is an overly simplified how-to guide.  
However, it has given us many new directions to look in."

 

"I don't like it," Rodney announced.

 

The entire room swung to look at him, Rodney was sitting tense in his seat, head  
bowed, computer tapping in full swing.

 

Elizabeth leaned forward in her seat. "Rodney?"

 

Rodney shook his head. "I can't explain it, but something about it seems wrong."

 

"Professional jealousy perhaps?" Zelenka asked frowning. "You are just upset  
that you did not come up with this yourself."

 

Rodney glared, shoulders hunched around him. "No, Radek, that's not it." His  
hands spread out into the air. "I can't explain it, something just feels off."  
He finished helplessly.

 

Elizabeth studied them both before nodding slowly. "All right, Rodney, you're  
advising prudence and that's enough for me. Be careful, both of you."

 

Rodney nodded, apparently satisfied.

 

John let out a little breath, still unsure how to bring up the next order of  
business. "Rodney, did you get anywhere with those anomalies?"

 

Rodney's head shot up, a guilty look spreading across his face. "No, I didn't,  
there was too much--"

 

John held up a silencing hand. "Not criticizing, just saying that I've noticed  
some things are acting a little wacky."

 

"Your grasp of the English language never ceases to amaze me. What exactly  
went," Rodney made a face that let everyone in the room he detested the next  
word out of his mouth, "wacky?"

 

John held up two fingers. "Twice, some random terminal on the outskirts of our  
inhabited space started spazzing out on me." Possibly, he said that last one on  
purpose.

 

"Spazzing out--" Rodney shook his head, "Never mind, I'll figure it out for  
myself, I dont suppose you noted where these events occurred?"

 

Smiling easily, John pulled out a scrap of paper and handed it over to Rodney,  
who picked it up between two fingers like he expected it to burst into flames or  
bite him.

 

When they were all done and filing out of the briefing room, Rodney shuffled up  
next to him and glared.

 

"What?" John asked.

 

"You waited until the *morning* to tell me?" Rodney followed him out of the room  
and down the hallway.

 

Dropping his head, John ran a hand down the back of his neck. "You were busy and  
silly me, I thought you might actually possibly get some sleep." He rolled his  
eyes. "What was I thinking?"

 

Rodney followed him into the transporter. "Obviously you weren't."

 

"Obviously."

 

John watched Rodney fiddle with the computer in his hands, frowning intently. "I  
still don't like it."

 

"Like what?" John leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed in front of  
him. "You've got tons of cool scientific stuff to do, at least I'm pretty sure  
that's what you said; that solitaire game I was playing was a killer."

 

Rodney's head shot up. "What?" He stopped himself. "No, once again, I'm not  
asking." His hand waved in front of the screen he was holding. "I'm serious  
here, something doesn't feel right!"

 

John shifted gears and straightened, taking him seriously. "Something is really  
wrong?" he asked, as they made it into the lift.

 

"Yes!" Rodney snapped. "There's just something that isn't right."

 

Instincts were instincts and while Rodney was occasionally spectacularly wrong,  
this didn't feel like one of those times. John moved closer to Rodney, peering  
over his shoulder. "What is it?"

 

Rodney tilted his head to the left, giving John a look out of the corner of his  
eye. John sucked in a deep breath, his body suddenly full of sharp and aching  
sensations. Rodney's cheeks flushed and his eyelashes fluttered.

 

"The notes," Rodney rasped. "There's something about them that's" he trailed  
off, his eyes focusing somewhere on John's face.

 

"Wrong?" John suggested softly.

 

The flush on Rodney's cheeks deepened and he swayed gently into John's body, hot  
and scorching against his side.

 

The lift stopped and they jumped apart.

 

John licked his lips and gestured for Rodney to go first. Rodney did, walking  
quickly. "I don't know," he called over his shoulder. "Something's just not  
right." He disappeared into the nearest lab.

 

The air in the lift felt cold and damning. John sighed and pressed another  
button, watching the doors close. Not right indeed.

 

******

 

Atlantis sputtered around them in an uneven pattern, alternately perturbing the  
science team and filling them with delight as occasional bits of data were  
unlocked. They seemed to have found a plentiful cache of information in the last  
breakthrough.

 

Rodney continued to make unhappy faces and noises and John studiously did not  
take any more from that than normal.

 

Zelenka and Rodney made steady progress in their ZPM hunt, as they learned how  
to manipulate the materials and machinery involved. John kept up the increased  
patrols out of habit. Rodney's assertion that something was wrong nagged at the  
back of his mind.

 

He tried not to be weirded out that Atlantis continued to give him the  
heebie-jeebies. John was a paranoid man when it came to the hair on the back of  
his neck, and he couldn't help but notice a few coincidences.

 

******

 

 

Days later, John sat at the conference table twiddling his thumbs. "So, you  
think they forgot?"

 

Elizabeth shook her head. "He reminded me of this meeting, John, give them a  
few--"

 

"--I don't understand how that's possible!" Rodney's voice shouted.

 

"--minutes." Elizabeth sighed. "Gentlemen, is there something I should know?"

 

Rodney lumbered in, his annoyance broadcasted with every fiber of his being.  
"Yes, the newest 'paper,'" he bit out the word, "we found in what appears to be  
in the bowels of Atlantis' fancy and Ancient recycle bin? Is a fake."

 

John sat up straight. "What? How can you tell?"

 

"Because," Zelenka said. "It does not read right."

 

"The information is wrong?" Elizabeth asked.

 

"No." Rodney shook his head. "It's all correct as far as I can tell. And let me  
tell you it's at just about the edge of what I can understand." He slumped into  
a chair, looking tired and strung out. "In fact, it's *exactly* at the edge of  
what I can understand."

 

John watched Rodney rub the palms of his hands over his eyes. "How exactly does  
it read wrong?"

 

Rodney looked at him from behind his hands. "I've spent nearly a year and a half  
reading what little we could glean from Atlantis' databases. Everything from  
notes about the proper handshake for some long dead head of state to detailed  
schematics to most of the equipment in the control room and I'm telling you,  
this," Rodney pointed to something on his screen, "reads wrong."

 

Zelenka looked up suddenly, grabbing the computer from Rodney's hands.

 

"Hey!"

 

"Shut up, I am thinking." Zelenka hummed, his brow furrowing. "If I did now know  
better"

 

"You don't." Rodney snatched the computer back, holding it close to his chest,  
his left hand petting the edges slightly.

 

Zelenka shot Rodney a dirty look. "If I did not know better, it reads like one  
of your papers."

 

Rodney looked at him oddly. "Are you sure?" He began to reread whatever it was  
he had on his screen.

 

"Not your earlier works maybe," Zelenka said. "But those you have written since  
you started incorporating Ancient technology? It has a very similar feel."

 

"Huh," Rodney said.

 

John went for his pistol. That reflex really had to stop.

 

Silence descended over the room as both Rodney and Zelenka studied the  
information before them. John tapped his fingers against the table, whistling  
tunelessly, which got him a withering look from Rodney. He gave him a wide smile  
and continued whistling.

 

"You might be right," Rodney finally conceded.

 

"What does that mean?" Elizabeth asked.

 

"I'm more brilliant than we thought?" Rodney gave it a beat and shrugged.

 

John looked around the room, the prickly feeling crawling over his skin even  
stronger than ever. "Something is going on here." He leaned in closer and  
shifted his eyes around, automatically searching for something that shouldn't be  
there. "I don't think any of this is a coincidence."

 

"Any of what?" Rodney asked.

 

"The anomalies, the sudden leaps in technological discovery, the McKay sounding  
paper, it's all gotta be related."

 

Rodney leaned back in his chair and stared at him. "However did you guess?"

 

******

 

Rodney and Zelenka hatched a plan. It involved monitoring a whole lot of  
Atlantis' extraneous systems while John kept up the patrols. It had been decided  
that there had to be someone on the base itself doing this.

 

It pretty much boiled down to John being bait. Hooray for bait.

 

"Assuming," Rodney began, pacing around the room. "Whoever it is isn't already  
aware that we know something is up, we should stick to a normal routine. Zelenka  
is in the next room continuing the ZPM work."

 

"So I'll just be wandering around looking for used candy bar wrappers," John  
muttered. "This should be fun, dealing with someone who obviously knows the  
systems well enough that it took us this long to figure it out. God knows what  
he knows about the physical layout of the city."

 

"Yeah well, be careful," Rodney said from his side of the room, not looking at  
him. John could see more words simmering under the surface of Rodney's skin --  
moving fast and awkward. Rodney's face was shadowed; the lines around his eyes  
and lips looked deep and painful.

 

"Hey now," John said quietly. "This is a walk in the park compared to some of  
the things we've done."

 

Rodney shook his head and the shadow dissolved away. "Of course it is, did I say  
it wasn't?"

 

"Not at all." John smiled brightly, the grin feeling painful on his face. "I'll  
be patrolling about 1600. It's my early day, you two gonna be ready?"

 

"We'll be fine." Rodney shooed him away. "Now leave, I've got a million  
important things to do and only enough time for half of them."

 

******

 

Rodney's steady voice in his ear kept John company as he wound his way around  
the city in increasingly frustrated circles. After the seventh time he'd been  
told to head in the completely opposite direction John made a grumpy noise into  
his headset. "Rodney, are you sure you know what you're doing?"

 

"I'm not answering that."

 

Well good, he was annoyed. Rodney always worked better when he was annoyed.

 

Something flicked out of the corner of his eye. John readjusted the grip on his  
P-90 and slipped into the closest room. At first glance, it wasn't any different  
than most of the other rooms they hadn't cleared yet: panels and consoles  
covered with tarps, miscellaneous equipment scattered around in what seemed like  
random placement.

 

John spotted a bit of rolled-up material stuffed between the wall and a large  
octagon shaped thing. He kneeled down to examine it, to find it was a battered  
looking bedroll, standard issue.

 

Behind it was a bag full of unspecified items and behind that was what looked  
like an Atlantis Expedition issue tablet computer. Standing carefully, John took  
a spin around the room, looking for anything else helpful before collecting what  
he found. "What are you doing?" he muttered to himself.

 

"What?" Rodney squawked in his ear. "Are you there yet?"

 

"Not now, Rodney, I think I found something." John shook his head. "What are you  
doing here and why are you helping us?" he asked again, staring thoughtfully at  
the belongings.

 

"I'm here because I've got nothing left," came a quiet voice from behind him.

 

John spun, P-90 aiming before he even he stopped. A shadowy figure stood in the  
corner of the room, computer in hand. He took careful aim. "Who are you? What do  
you want, really?"

 

The figure stepped into the light, shadows receding from his face like a slow  
blanket pulling away. "Hello, John," the man said softy.

 

John's hand fell to his side in surprise. "Rodney?"

 

"What?" Rodney said in his ear.

 

John's eyes narrowed. He ignored his radio and stared the other Rodney. He was  
older, the lines around his eyes and mouth deeper. Gray hair crept up from his  
temples and his eyes -- his eyes held a sadness that made John's chest ache.

 

Rodney's mouth tightened and he nodded slightly. "You know, part of me was  
worried you wouldn't recognize me." He took a few steps further into the room.  
"I assume you're on vox?"

 

Nodding absently and ignoring the yelling in his ear, John got closer to Rodney,  
taking in the new scars; there was something just below his jaw, thin and  
slightly discolored. "Someone's probably already on their way."

 

"Right." Rodney nodded, but didn't move any further, just stared, his gaze warm  
and tired. "I'm sort of disappointed it took this long. I've been around for  
about two months."

 

John found himself moving without thought. He tapped his radio. "Hey, Rodney,  
call off whatever dogs you've got, I'm fine. Give us a few minutes?"

 

Rodney slumped next to him. "Thank you," he said quietly, just as Rodney  
squawked indignantly in John's ear.

 

"No problem," John said as a hand ghosted down his shoulder, a trail of warmth  
that slid across his skin leaving goose bumps. He shivered lightly.

 

"Sorry," Rodney said, pulling his hand away and bowing his head. "I just can't  
believe you're real."

 

Instinct overcame self-preservation and John curled his hand around the older  
Rodney's shoulder, squeezing tightly. Rodney gave him a startled look, and his  
mouth twisted in surprise.

 

Suddenly John was being hugged tightly, Rodney's arms bands of steel around his  
midsection. Awkwardly he returned the gesture, slowly patting Rodney's  
shoulders. As the body next to John's shuddered silently for long seconds, the  
patting settled into slow circles.

 

The contact didn't last long. Rodney's hold loosened and he pulled back just as  
abruptly as he'd started. His face held no trace of whatever had just gone  
through his head, but his eyes looked a little bit lighter. "I'm man enough to  
admit that I just might have missed you." He smiled, but it faded abruptly.

 

John's heart stuttered, a wave of understanding washing over him like a cold  
shower. "So, I'm guessing it's been longer than two months since you've seen  
me?"

 

Rodney nodded. "I might have even missed your hair." He made an aborted movement  
towards John, his hand lifting, before dropping back to his side.

 

"How long has it been?"

 

Rodney shook his head. Too long. He lumbered over to a chair and sat down  
slowly, slumping comfortably against the back, swinging his feet up to rest on a  
nearby box. "I could really go for some food and a very long nap. The SubCu wore  
off about three weeks after I got here." He rolled his wrist and flexed his  
hands. "That ache just likes to dig in.

 

John tilted his head in amusement. "Make yourself at home." He pulled up another  
crate next to Rodney's feet and made himself a space to sit. "SubCu?"

 

Rodney pulled up his sleeve to reveal a small lump on his upper arm. "There were  
some very bad birth control comments when it first came out."

 

The skin looked clean and new, the only telltale sign was a barely there scar at  
one end. John raised his hand in silent question, and with Rodney's nod, traced  
over soft skin and felt the telltale wrongness of the lack of give in that one  
spot. "What's in it?" John asked.

 

Rodney rolled his sleeve back down. "This and that: vitamins, a pain killer here  
and there, things with lots of vowels that I've given up trying to pronounce."

 

Taking it in stride, John nodded. He lived on Atlantis after all, and the thing  
did sound kind of useful. "So why the ruse?"

 

"Blah blah blah, timeline contamination." Rodney sighed tiredly, closing his  
eyes and tilting his head back against the wall. "Blah blah blah temporal  
paradox, blah blah blah the end of the universe as we know it." His eyes peeked  
open. "Did you follow all that or were the words too big?"

 

John couldn't help but smile; time apparently didn't change Rodney much. "So  
what was the plan then, spoonfeed us Ancient secrets?"

 

"Purely selfish, I assure you," Rodney said. "I was lonely."

 

"Uh huh." John wasn't buying it.

 

They held each others gaze for long seconds, longer than John had expected, but  
finally, Rodney relented. "I wasn't going to change anything other than the  
timeline of technology."

 

"And then what? Go back?" John pressed, because Rodney was too quiet, too still.  
There was something missing and he wanted to know what.

 

Rodney, however, only nodded, "Yeah, and then go back."

 

"Right." John moved to touch his radio. "You up for some company?"

 

Before Rodney could answer, the door slid open. "Finally!" Rodney stalked in and  
stopped short in front of the bed. "Well, at least I didn't lose any more hair."

 

The Rodney sitting down laughed. "Forgot about the radio. I must be tired."

 

John started; he'd forgotten too. At least that saved some repeat conversation.  
"Rodney," he said addressing the younger one. "Meet Rodney."

 

Rodney examined his double sitting in the chair and paled. "Good god, how old  
*are* you?"

 

The other Rodney on the put his hand over his heart and looked shocked. "My  
mother always said you should never ask a lady her age."

 

Rodney's mouth snapped shut with an audible click and for half a beat it looked  
like he didn't have an answer. "My mother also said 'Cut the crap.'"

 

John watched the two of them, fighting back laughter. "Rodney?"

 

"What?" they both answered.

 

The older one rolled his eyes. "Call me McKay."

 

Rodney harrumphed. "Don't I get a say in this?"

 

McKay shot Rodney an annoyed glare. "Would you rather I be called--"

 

"Nevermind! McKay it is!" Rodney quickly interrupted.

 

Not wanting to let them ramp up, John stood. "Come on McKay, Beckett's gonna  
wanna get a look at you."

 

"Carson?" McKay's eyes looked suspiciously bright. "Yes, Carson, let's go see  
him." Despite his enthusiasm, his movements were slow and practiced. John  
offered a hand and McKay eyed it suspiciously, his gaze darting around the room,  
before he took it and used it to help haul himself up.

 

The calluses on McKay's hand felt odd and familiar to John; they were the hands  
of someone who used a gun often. More often than Rodney currently did. John  
frowned but said nothing as they escorted McKay to the infirmary.

 

Zelenka met them outside the door, looking at McKay with wide eyes. John watched  
McKay give him a mischievous grin and wave. Only McKay would get this much kick  
out of time travel. With only a subtle head bob, John had them arranged around  
McKay, so they wouldn't be pinned with too many curious stares along the way.

 

Beckett had his back turned when they entered "What's the emergency, Colonel--"  
He turned and got a good look at their visitor.

 

" Carson." McKay waved again. "Long time no see."

 

Beckett sat down hard in his chair. "Well now, this is actually unexpected."

 

"Yes, yes," Rodney busted in. "Let's all gawk at my older, less attractive  
looking self."

 

McKay sniffed. "I prefer the terms gracefully aged, and dignified charm."

 

"Well," Beckett said over Rodney's protests, "it certainly sounds like him." He  
turned to John, "I suppose it's my job to make sure it actually *is* him?"

 

"Oh goody." McKay clapped his hands together and rubbed vigorously. "I haven't  
been invasively examined in months now. I can't wait."

 

******

 

Once Elizabeth got wind of all the details, she demanded an update as soon as  
Beckett was done with his examination.

 

Thanks to the Ancient technology, things that might've taken hours took a  
fraction of the time and their questions were soon answered. Beckett confirmed  
that as could tell, McKay was indeed the real McCoy, and they headed to the  
briefing room

 

Beckett and McKay filed into the briefing room last. John watched Beckett watch  
McKay sit down; he noted some of the care McKay had needed earlier was missing.  
Beckett must have given him something for whatever was wrong.

 

Elizabeth looked at McKay for a long moment. "Well, this wasnt something I was  
expecting ever to do again."

 

McKay just waggled his eyebrows and shrugged.

 

Rodney smacked his hand down on the table. "Are through with the pleasantries?  
Can we get on to the important things like the fact that he obviously knows how  
to make ZedPMs?"

 

"I've got all of my notes," McKay said. "I'm sure you'll have no trouble  
following them."

 

"I'll have no trouble following them," Rodney mimicked under his breath.

 

John pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is there anything else you can help us  
with?"

 

McKay threaded his fingers and rested them on the table in front of him. "I've  
been trying to unlock some of the databases that might be useful, but I wasn't  
originally the one who did most of the work, so it might take a while."

 

"Now hold on a minute," Elizabeth interrupted. "It's not that I don't appreciate  
all the help, but is this wise?"

 

"I don't plan on giving all of you detailed future histories of yourself. I'm  
just going to help you along the technological trail that you'd have bumbled  
down anyway."

 

"Hey!" Rodney practically stood up.

 

"Rodney!" John intervened. "Sit down, shut up, and take your personality with a  
grain of salt, just like the rest of us."

 

Rodney harrumphed, but kept his tongue.

 

John turned back to McKay, taking in his amused demeanor. "Wow, you've  
mellowed."

 

"Not really." McKay replied, not looking the least bit annoyed. "He's just  
working on an ulcer."

 

All the heads in the room swung to Rodney who looked as startled as the rest of  
them. "Carson?"

 

Beckett donned his comforting face. "It's alright, Rodney, we'll check it out."

 

John turned back to McKay just in time to see the smile slip from his face as  
something crept into his eyes. In the background, he heard Beckett placating  
Rodney. McKay's gaze caught his and he couldn't look away, John recognized  
something inside it, a small wilting spark that he'd seen before in soldiers  
back from war, or widows at the end of a funeral. McKay broke away first,  
refocusing on the argument happening across the room.

 

Rodney was in the middle of clutching his stomach and Beckett looked about three  
steps away from hitting him. "Rodney," he said, teeth clenched. "We'll get you  
into the infirmary as soon as possible." He sighed, "I don't suppose it'd do me  
any good to suggest you lay off the coffee?" At Rodney's horrified look, Beckett  
shook his head. "Thought not."

 

"Gentlemen," Elizabeth chastised. "The subject at hand, please?" Once everyone  
settled down again, she went on. "Rodney-- McKay," she corrected herself  
quickly, "how did you get here?"

 

"I found Janus' notes a few years ago my time," McKay said. "It wasn't too  
complex once we had full power, just time intensive."

 

" Elizabeth accepted the explanation without comment. "The next logical question  
would be why?"

 

McKay didn't answer right away and John had the sneaking suspicion there was  
more involved than just keeping the timeline intact.

 

"Let's just say," McKay said slowly, voice rough. "I'm the Hail Mary."

 

Oh Jesus, that was just too -- John's gut clenched in horror as he translated --  
disaster. Disaster too huge and devastating to think about, the kind that could  
hinder Rodney McKay and turn him into the strange shell sitting before them. In  
a flash, John added up all the little things that bothered him: the quietness,  
the slow movements, the sadness that tinged all of his actions. Sometime in the  
future they failed so spectacularly that the only recourse was to go back and  
try again.

 

Rodney however wasn't satisfied, "So you've decided to take a big eraser to  
history?"

 

"Yeah," McKay sneered. "That's exactly what this is, a playful romp through the  
annals of time."

 

"Children!" John barked. "Fight later, pretend to be grown ups now." He pointed  
at McKay, still feeling unsettled. "Anything else you're willing to tell us?"

 

McKay shook his head. "I'm not willing to do more than help you figure out the  
Ancient technology. Anything more than that and there's no way I could begin to  
predict the consequences."

 

"You're kidding me, right?" Rodney asked.

 

"Fine," McKay said. "Try not to die, pretty much all of you do." He turned to  
Rodney. "Happy?"

 

"Not really, no." Rodney crossed his arms. "Could you try to be a little more  
vague?"

 

McKay crossed his arms right back. "There are things I want to make sure happen  
and they're not the sort of things you can plan out."

 

"I believe in serendipity in my old age?" Rodney turned to Beckett. "Are you  
sure he's sane?"

 

Beckett shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, his brain is perfectly fine."

 

John frowned and stared at Beckett who continued to look uncomfortable. "But?"  
He prompted.

 

"But nothing," McKay answered. "I'm perfectly sane." He straightened his clothes  
self-consciously. "Just a bit older."

 

"How much older?" Rodney asked.

 

McKay looked up, humor lighting his eyes. "I thought we covered the age thing  
earlier."

 

John watched as McKay successfully sent Rodney into sputtering incoherent  
half-sentences, taking mental notes. It seemed like a useful skill. He also  
thought that Rodney was exaggerating the age thing; McKay looked more tired than  
anything else. The extra wrinkles and graying hair couldn't have added more than  
fifteen years.

 

"Gentlemen," Elizabeth interrupted again.

 

"Sorry," McKay said, sounding almost like he meant it. "But my younger self over  
there isn't thinking about the consequences of knowing even the most innocuous  
details." He turned to John. "Also, you're right, it *is* fun to ramp me up."

 

John's head perked up. "Don't suppose I could get that in writing?"

 

"Actually," Rodney snapped. "That's exactly what I was thinking."

 

"Well stop it." McKay shook his head.

 

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Dr. McKay," Elizabeth said. "The older one,"  
she added as Rodney opened his mouth to speak. "I'd prefer if we not corrupt the  
timeline more than needed."

 

Rodney pointed a finger at her. "But when you--"

 

"That was different," Elizabeth interrupted. "She was telling us of events that  
happened in the past."

 

John heard Rodney mutter quietly. He shook his head in amusement; Rodney wasn't  
going to give up without a long and dirty fight. There might possibly be hair  
pulling. "Rodney, give it up, he's older than you and knows your bag of tricks."

 

Rodney made an angry noise, but slumped in his seat.

 

McKay opened his mouth go say something, but yawned hugely instead. "Sorry," he  
muttered, "but manipulating a 10,000 year old system so that there are as few  
traces as possible and then sacking out on the floor, isn't conducive to a good  
night's rest."

 

John watched Beckett abort a movement to the older man's side. Elizabeth's sharp  
eyes must have caught it too because she nodded. "Let's let our guest get some  
rest." She held up a hand to forestall the protest they all knew was coming from  
Rodney. "I'm sure Dr, McKay will be happy to hand over enough material to keep  
us all occupied while he's indisposed."

 

Backing her up, McKay nodded. "I dug up an older flash drive. It's still a few  
years ahead of you guys, but backwards compatibility was still in style last  
time I checked." He attached it to his computer and started moving files. "I'll  
throw all the ZedPM notes on there and few other things besides." He looked up  
with a small smile. "You'll be in heaven and won't even notice I'm not there."

 

After that, the meeting cleared out quickly. Elizabeth stopped John before he  
could get up. "I think you should spend some time with him." She gestured to  
where McKay and Beckett were talking quietly. "As much as I agree with what he  
said" she trailed off meaningfully.

 

John nodded. "He's been on the run for god knows how long; it'd be cruel to  
leave him to his own thoughts." He eyed McKay from across the room; the older  
face, the thin veneer of strength stretched over frailty. He looked thin and  
tired. With Beckett towering over him, even the force of his personality wasn't  
enough to even out the visual.

 

Elizabeth patted him on the shoulder and left.

 

"Rodney!" Beckett's raised voice came from where he and McKay were talking. He  
was obviously having trouble remembering the name thing. John didn't blame him.

 

"Carson," McKay's lowered voice said. "I said no." He left no room for argument.

 

Beckett's shoulders slumped. "Fine." John had to strain to hear as Beckett bent  
close to McKay, "but I'll be checking in on you so often you'll wish you said  
yes."

 

McKay nodded. "You can try."

 

John decided it was time to step up to the plate. "Come on, McKay, I think I got  
volunteered to find you a place to stay."

 

McKay pushed away from the table, standing up with only a small wince. "Carson,"  
he acknowledged and then moved past him to stand next to John. "Well, lead the  
way."

 

******

 

John let McKay set the pace, surprised when it became a slow amble. Even when  
injured, Rodney seemed to run off of some sort of weird frenetic energy source.  
When McKay veered off from their path, John let him, following curiously without  
a word. They wandered through the corridors carefully, McKay taking turns  
seemingly at random, but he never hesitated, never stopped to think about it, so  
John didn't speak up.

 

Finally they stopped in front of one of the more isolated balconies. McKay  
looked at him, silently asking for permission.

 

John shrugged. "Sure."

 

McKay swung the doors open and stepped outside, stopping just on the other side  
of the threshold, basking in something John couldn't see.

 

"Like the view?" McKay called back to him.

 

John stepped out next to him and looked around. It wasn't all that different  
from most of the other views on Atlantis, spectacular, but you' seen one, you'd  
seen them all. He took another step and as the angle shifted, the mist aligned  
with the sunlight. He gasped in surprise at the rainbow danced in the air,  
wrapping around Atlantis like a bow. Then he squinted; by tilting his head, the  
spectrum of colors seemed--

 

"The white light here isn't quite the same as that on earth," McKay explained.  
"It breaks down differently."

 

"Oh," John said, too distracted by the wavering rainbow to say anything else.

 

"We discovered it a few years ago, or from now, depends on your perspective."  
McKay moved to stand next to him. "Sorry I took us on this little detour, but I  
figured if I was going to be interrogated, I might as well have a good view."

 

John looked at McKay only to discover him still gazing off into the horizon.  
"This isn't an interrogation."

 

"Excuse me." McKay gave him an awkward smile. "Friendly conversation." He  
wandered over to a shadowed section to their right. "Now, if I remember  
correctly, ah ha." He lifted off a white silken tarp, unlatching its secure  
holdings with ease. Beneath it were several low-laying mutated beach chairs.  
McKay dragged two of them out to the center and sat down on the one closest to  
him. "There, all comfy. Please commence the questioning that's carefully  
disguised as friendly conversation but is actually meant to elicit little bits  
of information."

 

John snagged the other chair and settled in. "There is no interrogation," he  
insisted. "We just thought you'd like some company."

 

"No." McKay shook his head, gathering the drape that had been covering the  
chairs in his lap. "You thought that. Elizabeth is hoping that by sending you to  
keep me company, she'll be able to say it wasn't her idea when I accidentally or  
not so accidentally feed you information."

 

"Youve gotten paranoid in your old age." John settled into his chair, surprised  
at how comfortable it was.

 

"I've always been paranoid." McKay arranged the fabric in his hands so that it  
draped over his legs. "The knees respond to cold more than they used to," he  
explained.

 

"So," John started after long moments of silence. "Got any words of wisdom?"

 

"Yeah," McKay said. "Don't piss off the Wraith."

 

"Good advice."

 

"I know."

 

McKay seemed content to sit quietly. His eyes fluttered halfway shut and his  
breathing evened out. John watched his chest rise and fall carefully,  
contemplating the movements, something bothering him about them.

 

"You died slowly and horribly, screaming in agony." McKay's voice startled John  
in its suddenness. "And I got to watch," he finished tightly.

 

"What happened to not corrupting the timeline?" John asked, trying not to think  
of dozens of the most obvious ways his death could fit that description.

 

"What can I say?" McKay's eyelids didn't flicker; he continued to resemble  
someone mostly asleep. "I'm a selfish bastard. Besides, I haven't really told  
you all that much."

 

There were times that John knew you had to shut up and let it come to you.  
"Well, I know that I die slowly, probably while captured, most likely by the  
Wraith, that you're there, and that you escape." John was never very good at  
shutting up. He ticked off each bit of information on his fingers.

 

"Very good." McKay still hadn't moved. "Is this where Im supposed to absently  
correct you?"

 

"I'm not trying to trick you!" John snapped, annoyed.

 

"I wish you would," McKay said quietly. "There's a lot of things I'd like to  
talk to you about."

 

John's eyes widened in surprise. "So then, this," he gestured between the two of  
them, "was you being subtle?"

 

A smug grin tugged at McKay's lips. "Maybe."

 

"You little shit." John laughed. "Older and wilier."

 

"Pet names aren't going to get you anywhere."

 

Something in the lilt of McKay's voice stopped John short. There was an extra  
layer of warmth added to the already complex web their Rodney hadn't quite built  
up himself. It hid beneath the strange vulnerability that McKay carried with  
him, but it was still there. "What aren't you telling me?"

 

McKay opened his eyes fully and swung his legs over the side of the foot rest,  
pulling himself completely upright. John followed suit. "A lot of things, John.  
A lot of things."

 

They faced each other, a strange tension palpable between them.

 

"Ask me," McKay said. "Ask me why I call you John." He leaned forward, pressing  
one hand gently on John's knee. "Ask me," he said again, almost pleading.

 

John swallowed roughly; a tingle of energy ran from the hand on his knee up his  
spine. "I-- I-- what happened to the rules?" His voice had dissolved into a low  
rasp and his hand moved to cover McKay's.

 

"Screw the rules," McKay said harshly. "I can't--" He stopped when his voice  
broke. "I can't do this without bending some of the rules."

 

That's when John saw him break just a little, the calm man that had answered all  
of their questions, who had submitted to all of their tests, cracked around the  
edges. "Why?" John whispered, the word falling from his lips before he could  
stop it.

 

McKay surged forward, showing more energy in that second than he had the entire  
time since John had met him. His lips collided with John's; hungrily kissing him  
with a desperation that scared him. John made a small noise in the back of his  
throat, because any way you diced it, this was Rodney kissing him so fiercely  
and it was perfect and amazing and like a hurricane on a clear day.

 

The hands on his knee tightened in a vice grip, so John used his other hand to  
cup McKay's cheek, to slow him down before they both drowned. McKay's sweet  
mouth nibbled at John's lips then licked his way inside, mapping each curve with  
determined enthusiasm, all the while making small desperate noises.

 

John's back burned with the awkward angle and McKay's energy slowly dwindled  
until finally they separated in a series of small, aching kisses. McKay slid off  
the chair and to his knees and pressed his chest firmly against John's, locking  
arms around him and holding tightly.

 

He buried his face in John's breast bone and breathed deeply, shaking. "Sorry,"  
he said, voice muffled. "It's been a while."

 

Carefully, John hugged back, tracing down McKay's spine, frowning slightly at  
the easily felt bones. Eventually he ended up drawing slow circles on his back.  
"S'okay, Rodney," he said, breaking the name rule. "S'okay." He pressed a short  
kiss into McKay's hair.

 

Eventually McKay pulled away, looking up into John's eyes, and for a brief  
moment he couldn't help but feel like an intruder into something he couldn't  
understand because he hadnt lived through it, but then McKay kissed him again.  
Slowly and carefully, they traded kisses; hands trailing warm tingles down  
John's back, knowing exactly where to touch.

 

John found his way to McKay's neck, nibbling lightly at the stubble, smiling at  
McKay's uncontrolled gasp. It was slow and dreamlike and warm and comfortable  
and sweet and John found himself aching from the inside out.

 

Until McKay shifted and hissed in pain. "My knees," he murmured.

 

John eased away and helped him back into his chair. Once McKay was seated again,  
he smiled at John brightly. "And to think, I could barely keep up with you  
before."

 

"Okay, self pity really isn't your style," John said, squeezing his hand.  
"Complaining till you're blue in the face? Maybe."

 

McKay made a face that seemed to say 'blah blah, heard it all before.' "So," he  
said tracing a finger over the back of John's hand. "I really am beat. Think we  
can find those quarters now?"

 

John kissed him again firmly, enjoying the strange illicit feeling. "Come on,  
before I forget myself and drop you off a ledge."

 

McKay laughed, standing slowly. "Just go ahead and pull my pigtails. I promise  
not to go crying to Elizabeth."

 

******

 

Later, after McKay stumbled wearily into bed, John watched him drop off into  
sleep within the blink of an eye and thought very hard about what had happened.

 

He couldn't quite bring himself to feel bad. Of course, there was a part of him  
that knew it was all a horrible idea, that McKay was clinging to him like John  
was his security blanket. Considering how much they needed McKay whole and in  
one piece for as long as possible, the ruthless soldier inside of him was all  
for the idea. However, the best friend inside of him wilted at the thought of  
stringing McKay along. Then, deep in the dark recesses of his own mind, he  
admitted that maybe he was doing a bit of using himself.

 

McKay twitched in his sleep, clutching at his pillow tightly. John smoothed a  
hand over his brow, feeling the deep lines in his skin. "I'm here, Rodney, I'm  
here." The effect was almost instantaneous; McKay quieted down and his fingers  
relaxed their hold.

 

Trapped like a rat on a sinking ship. John resigned himself to getting the shit  
kicked out of him on a number of different levels over the coming days.

 

He slipped out once he was sure McKay was well and truly asleep and snagged his  
laptop from his office. It wouldn't be fair to leave the man alone, but he  
wasn't going to be bored while doing his good deed.

 

He took the opportunity to catch up to Elizabeth and inform her of his new plan.  
Not the one that involved kissing and hugging and possibly sex, but the one that  
was sane, if a bit sentimental. He also ran into Rodney, who he hoped hadn't  
seen the flush creeping up from under his collar.

 

"How's naptime at the retirement village going?" Rodney asked.

 

Okay then, obviously not noticing. "Well it was a little dicey earlier when he  
got a whiff of the mashed banana, but he settled down when I threatened to take  
away his Ensure --what the hell is the matter with you?" John asked, annoyed.

 

"Nothing," Rodney dismissed, already walking away.

 

"Well then," John called after him. "I'll tell him you inquired about his  
health."

 

Rodney ignored him and ducked into a side corridor.

 

"I'm sure he'll be glad to know you cared!" John yelled, mostly in good nature.

 

Rodney's "Shut up!" could be heard faintly in the distance.

 

John smiled, whistling an off-key tune as he strolled back to McKay's room.

 

Hours of paperwork, email memos, and endless games of solitaire later, the door  
slid open soundlessly. Beckett stood framed in the doorway, startled to see him  
in the room.

 

"Hey," John greeted quietly. "Looking for me?"

 

Beckett shook his head and pointed. "Him. The lunatic that thinks I'll just let  
this go."

 

John put down his computer and assumed his usual careless slump. "Let what go?"

 

"You tell him," McKay's rusty voice said from under the covers, "I talk about  
that incident with the rice pudding."

 

John watched Beckett go bright red, straighten his shoulders, and make a grim  
face. "I was twenty," he said. "She was a red head, and there was a lot of  
slipping."

 

McKay's head popped up from under the blankets and blinked at him blearily.  
"Huh, didn't really expect that."

 

Oddly, it was a relief to see McKay not all-knowing about something.

 

"Now." Beckett set his case down and sat on the edge of the bed. "Will you let  
me check up on you?"

 

"Fine," McKay grumbled, shuffling into an upright position. "But I'm not going  
to change my mind."

 

"Bloody stubborn mule," Beckett muttered, digging into his bag taking out his  
stethoscope and an Ancient scanning device.

 

The juxtaposition of the two, as always, made John blink. "I'll leave you two  
alone for this bit." He went to stand.

 

"No," McKay said quietly. "Stay." He waited patiently for John to resume his  
previous position before going on. "Carson can just learn a bit of discretion."

 

"He's got a serious condition that he won't let me treat," Beckett said  
pointedly, not looking up from his scans.

 

"Godamnit." McKay blustered. "Would you *stop* that?" He glared at Beckett  
before turning to John. "Fine, I have cancer, now maybe he'll stop holding it  
over my head."

 

"Aye, and I've got a sheep that shits gold," Beckett muttered.

 

"Cancer? What kind?" John asked, reeling from the word. Cancer. It boomed around  
in his head, echoing, although it did explain a lot

 

"Leukemia," McKay answered. "Possibly the beginnings of bone cancer, though I  
think I'm just not used to running around without my meds."

 

John ran a hand through his hair and let Beckett finish his scans while the  
information sank in. The point of contention between McKay and Beckett seemed to  
be treatment. From the snippets of conversation John overheard, McKay only  
wanted to treat the symptoms, but not the cause. Beckett objected strenuously  
and John frankly agreed with him.

 

"I trust," McKay said conversationally, "that nothing's changed all that much in  
the last few hours?"

 

The glimmer of hope in McKay's eyes made John sit up and take notice. On the  
surface, McKay had a sort of casual air about him, that of a man who knew his  
fate and was pretty much resigned to it, but underneath was something more, a  
spark of knowledge that--

 

"You're using it as a gauge?" John asked incredulously. "You're assuming that  
the cancer was caused by some event that you're hoping to avoid?"

 

McKay ducked his head. "No assumptions necessary. I'm fairly sure of it."

 

"That's ridiculous!" Beckett snapped. "You can't be sure."

 

The distant reflection of memory shone in McKay's eyes. "Yes I can."

 

"You're insane," John pronounced slowly, just in case McKay had trouble hearing.  
"You're refusing treatment because you've got some crazy idea that it's all for  
the greater good?"

 

"No," McKay said. "I've already told you, I'm a selfish bastard."

 

Beckett huffed, slamming his bag around as much as he dared. "You're a dying  
selfish bastard."

 

McKay flinched and looked away, eyes focused steadily on the floor. "Yes, I am."

 

"Here." Beckett fished out a small bottle. "Take these once a day and these," he  
fished out another bottle, "twice a day, with food."

 

"Never thought I'd miss the SubCu injections," McKay sighed. "Fine, I'll take  
the pills, they'll help me through the day anyway." He carefully popped open one  
of the containers and swallowed a pill dry. "That reminds me; you should take  
mine out and study it."

 

"Aye," Beckett agreed. "I have to admit I'd been curious about the little  
bugger."

 

John listened absently as the two discussed injection methods, leaps in medical  
potential and long-term effectiveness. McKay was using his own body as a judge  
for his own success. That certainly took hubris to another level; it also  
explained the desperation in his actions. John was fairly sure he'd just become  
a dying man's last wish and he wasn't sure if he had it in him to say yes, or to  
say no.

 

"Oh for god's sake." McKay's voice interrupted his musings. "Just cut it out,  
I'll do it for you if you want."

 

"And have you complain about shoddy workmanship? I don't think so." Beckett  
frowned at him. "If you think I enjoy performing minor surgery in less than  
antiseptic conditions--"

 

McKay held his hands up. "I give; we'll visit your chamber of horrors at some  
point so you can take it out."

 

John was amused that McKay could somehow remain so much himself over the course  
of a number of, if he was reading the material right, rough years, but McKay had  
some 'splaining to do and he wasn't going to do it with Beckett in the room.  
"You about done there, Doc?"

 

"As done as he'll let me be." Beckett favored McKay with another angry glare.  
"Rodney," he softened fractionally, "I don't want to watch you do this to  
yourself."

 

"I appreciate that Carson." McKay smiled sadly. "I do, but somewhere along the  
way, the sacrifices get easier and they really shouldn't."

 

Beckett swallowed at the unspoken implication. A self-sacrificing McKay, when  
danger wasn't breathing its halitosis laden breath down their necks, was a scary  
concept indeed. "Call me if you need anything."

 

"I will." McKay patted the pill bottles in his hand. "Now go off and practice  
your mad science on someone else."

 

Beckett nodded, giving his friend one last look and John a tight, "Colonel,"  
before turning on his heel and leaving.

 

The silence was tense. McKay rattled around the pills bottles for a while,  
reading the labels before carefully placing them on the table next to the bed.  
"How long have I been asleep?"

 

"Couple hours."

 

McKay nodded, stretching. A loud popping noise came from his back, "I can't tell  
if that means I slept really well," he stretched again, "or really badly."

 

John didn't say anything while he watched McKay's careful movements. It seemed  
practiced and routine, the flexing of fingers, the slow swinging of legs over  
the edge, the careful shift of weight to his feet. Normally it wasn't anything  
too worrying, some mornings John himself was starting to feel a little extra  
stiffness. Now, however now it was a whole other thing.

 

"So are we not speaking now?" McKay asked after he was standing. "Because Id  
love to skip this conversation if I have a choice."

 

John stood up and took the half-step he needed to be in McKay's personal space.  
"Cancer," he breathed closing his eyes. "Didn't see that one coming."

 

McKay leaned his head on John's shoulder. His warm breath skirted across John's  
skin, raising goose bumps and making him flash hot then cold then hot again.  
"You should have, I warned you about it enough."

 

That was true, Rodney constantly complained about the many ways he could die,  
radiation poisoning of one type or another most recently at the top of the list.  
John had just never thought he'd be right. His hands found their way to McKay's  
shoulders, kneading softly. He opened his eyes as McKay pulled back. "Whats  
this?" John asked, as his thumb traced up the side of McKay's neck and down his  
jaw line.

 

"This is me," McKay said, leaning in, "being a selfish bastard." He gave John  
one last condescending look before brushing their lips together. "We've been  
over that."

 

John gave in enough to kiss back gently, feeling the small shudder run through  
McKay's body.

 

"God, I missed you," McKay said into his neck. He breathed deeply, causing small  
wisps of air to run across the skin. John shivered into the touch, moving his  
hands to the small of McKay's back.

 

There were people in life you weren't supposed to have tumultuous secretive  
relationships with. Married people, in-laws, bosses, the older version of the  
person you *would* be having that relationship with given half the chance. As  
soon as McKay kissed him just so under his ear -- a desperate, needy kiss -- all  
of that fell away in a shiver of pleasure.

 

McKay directed John to the bed, pushing gently at his chest until he flopped  
backward. He pushed up onto his elbows in time to see McKay fumbling with his  
pants. He blinked in confusion for a half a second before stopping him with a  
firm flick of his hand. Reaching, he cupped McKay's cheek again, moving forward  
to kiss him.

 

The kiss ended and began again, over and over and McKay wrapped himself around  
John, arms pulling tightly around his neck. It was just like on the balcony,  
John needing to reach down only the smallest of spaces to kiss McKay. This time,  
though, the kisses made it past the gentle desperate stage and into something  
scorching hot and dizzying in intensity, the firm press of another body against  
his just helping the cause.

 

This time when fumbling hands reached for John's pants, he didn't stop them,  
already achingly hard, he gave McKay one last kiss before falling back to the  
bed.

 

McKay sucked cock like a pro; actually, he sucked John's cock like a pro. His  
tongue did obscene things to the underside that left John gasping so hard the  
edges of his vision blurred. He was racing towards the end already, but it had  
been too long since anything like this had happened and it felt way too amazing  
for him to have any sort of control.

 

"Rodney," he breathed. "RodneyRodneyRodney." Their hands threaded together,  
holding tight. Surprisingly nimble fingers traced under his balls, pressing  
firmly into that sweet spot. McKay swallowed him whole, Johns body jumped and  
shuddered, and he was lost in the sweet, wet, heat that was McKay's mouth.

 

John had just enough warning to say," Rodney, I--" before he came in long  
devastating pulses that McKay swallowed enthusiastically, making John shudder  
more with each careful swallow until finally he was wrung out, empty inside.  
Only then did McKay let him slide out with a quiet pop.

 

John was sweating down to his toes, hell, his hair was still twitching as Rodney  
climbed up into the bed next to him. John shifted and paused momentarily as he  
realized he hadn't even noticed McKay had tucked him away and zipped him up.

 

McKay slung an arm over John's chest and made himself comfortable on his  
shoulder. John eased an arm free going to return the favor but found it got  
tangled up in McKay's hand.

 

"It's okay, John," McKay said, eyes still closed. "I appreciate the thought, but  
we don't have the time to work around all the obstacles."

 

"Obstacles?" He had trouble saying the word; his muscles still hadn't managed to  
re-coordinate all the way.

 

McKay pushed up and gave him a dopey grin. "Meds, age, illness-- shall I  
continue the depressing litany?"

 

"Oh," John said, his buzz already cut short.

 

"No worries." McKay kissed his shoulder. "I plan on getting off, just later,  
when we have hours to work with."

 

A small little thrill went through John. Of course. Hours. What was he thinking?

 

******

 

Elizabeth cornered him at his late dinner and there was no one to hide behind,  
because both Rodney and McKay were hidden away in the lab trading insults. Ronon  
gave him an 'are you kidding me?' look when John made a move towards him and  
Teyla was off somewhere being Athosian.

 

"Colonel Sheppard," she called to him.

 

Resigned, he gestured to the free seat in front of him, which she took.

 

"How is Dr. McKay doing?"

 

John pressed his lips together, trying to think of an answer that would get her  
to leave him alone. He liked her and as a general rule valued her opinions, but  
at that very second he really didn't want them. "He's old and tired and probably  
a little bit less sane than the Rodney we're used to."

 

She nodded and it was quite possibly that she'd come to a similar conclusion.

 

 

He went on. "Pretty much what you'd expect from anyone who was the survivor of a  
post-apocalyptic civilization."

 

Surprised, Elizabeth gasped. "You think so?"

 

"He said it himself," John explained. "He's their last chance, and a long shot  
at that."

 

He watched Elizabeth nod slowly; covering her horror with a sip from the cup she  
was holding. Diplomats had a tendency to forget the realities their hard truths  
and stunning speeches often referenced. "Learn anything interesting?" she asked  
eventually.

 

Somehow, 'Rodney gives great head', didn't seem like the sort of thing she was  
looking for. He shook his head. "He seems to have learned a bit of discretion  
over the years." John had a very good idea of why. He thought about the whole  
cancer thing -- the word still echoing in his head like a bad cartoon sound  
effect -- but decided against mentioning it just yet.

 

Elizabeth took another sip of coffee, her hand clutching the mug tightly.  
"You'll keep an eye on him?"

 

Swallowing a bit of food that had turned cold when he wasn't looking, John  
nodded. "I'm not sure he'd tolerate anyone else." He tried for an amused, but  
annoyed smile. "Or so he's implied."

 

Minutes after Elizabeth left him to his cold dinner, Zelenka wandered in;  
looking like he'd spent the morning getting his eyes rolled around inside his  
head. John really didn't want to think about what it had to be like trying to  
keep up with the dueling McKays back in the OK Corral.

 

Zelenka hurried past him, tray laden with enough food to feed most of the  
department. He made a concentrated effort to blow a stray hair out of his face  
and ended up looking like he was blowing up an imaginary balloon.

 

John checked his watch and was surprised at how late it actually was. Suddenly  
the lack of people in the mess made a whole lot more sense. Briefly he thought  
about checking in on Rodney and suggesting it was time for a break, but in the  
end he figured Beckett would probably descend on the elder one with a frown and  
a medical directive.

 

******

 

John woke up later that night to someone peeling the blankets back. He'd fallen  
asleep surprisingly easily considering the constantly running and circular  
nature of his thoughts.

 

"Move over," someone whispered in his ear, making him shiver contentedly.  
"Move." It was said again more forcefully. "Or I'm rolling you onto the floor."

 

"Rodney?" He peeked his eyes open to see a ghost of a pale oval face floating in  
the dark room. "McKay."

 

McKay nodded. "Yes me, old, tired, decrepit me who wants to sleep through the  
night without Carson interrupting me every three hours hoping to annoy me into  
accepting treatment." He pushed at John's arms. "Now move."

 

John was struck by the odd sensation of having someone climb in next to him. He  
felt utterly at ease, not even needing to shift around to find a comfortable  
position for both of them. They just fell into it, McKay's arm around John's  
stomach, his head resting comfortably on Johns shoulder. Within two eye blinks  
they settled, practically with an audible click.

 

McKay brushed two kisses against Johns bare skin and relaxed quickly into  
sleep. John ran a slow hand down McKay's back, once again feeling the various  
bumps of bone with startling clarity. Like a blind man in the dark he read  
McKay's back until he fell asleep.

 

John woke up to a slow and dirty hand job, pleasure so simple and deep it only  
took two steady strokes before he was falling over the edge, flushed all over,  
and shaking slightly.

 

Kissing him lightly, McKay murmured, "It was good for me too," against his lips,  
before standing up. "I'm going to take a shower."

 

John spent a few minutes blinking at the ceiling in confusion, until finally he  
couldn't ignore his bladder any longer. He paused outside of the bathroom for an  
agonizing three seconds, hopping around until finally he pushed ahead. McKay had  
probably had no problem with the shower/toilet conundrum mornings after tend to  
have. Sighing with relief, John threw on a shirt to cover the chill while  
waiting for his turn in the shower.

 

Wait a minute, the man who'd just jerked him off was in his shower. He could  
probably get away with sharing a little running water. He was just about to take  
his shirt back off when there was a quiet knocking at his door. Shit.

 

He froze, hoping whoever it was would go away, infinitely glad that neither of  
them had turned up the lights.

 

Whoever it was knocked again.

 

John sighed and opened the door, covering as much of the entrance as possible,  
squinting into the bright lights of the hallway.

 

"Oh good, Colonel, you're awake."

 

"Rodney," John said, holding back a choked squeak and wiping a hand over his  
face. "Is there something I can help you with?" He prayed he didn't smell as  
much like sex as he thought.

 

Rodney flailed about a bit, mouth opening unnecessarily. "I'm not sure, can I  
come in?"

 

"No," John said a little frantically, continuing when a hurt look appeared on  
Rodneys face. "Listen, Rodney, I just woke up. I need a shower and some  
coffee."

 

Rodney frowned at him. "I'm trying to have a moment here, you know when one  
friend goes to another friend and tries to talk?" Rodney pushed at the arm  
blocking his way. "At least that's how it works on TV."

 

John had lost all control of the situation; Rodney should not have been able to  
get past him. John was in the military, he was fit, he knew all sorts of ways to  
incapacitate a man. Yet he was helpless before Rodney McKay's pushy hands.

 

"It's just how often are you confronted with your older self?" Rodney asked,  
once he was inside the room.

 

John kept himself within the door sensor for an extra few seconds in the feeble  
hope that Rodney would talk himself right back out of it. "I dunno, why don't  
you go ask Elizabeth." He waved at the doorway. "Please."

 

"Oh, well, I suppose there is that."

 

John held his breath in hope.

 

"But somehow it doesn't feel the same," Rodney went on, taking a seat.

 

John sighed.

 

Rodney went on, oblivious. "I'm a man, she's a woman, my alternate self is from  
the future, hers was from the past, I'm apparently actively trying to--" He  
stopped suddenly. "Is that your shower running? You do know that we don't have a  
limitless supply of energy quite yet?"

 

"Right!" John said quickly, seeing a way out. "I'll just go turn that off." He  
started for the bathroom. "Or you could just go away and let me shower," he  
called over his shoulder.

 

The shower stopped.

 

Rodney's eyes went wide. "No way."

 

John winced.

 

"You cant control the showers with your mind!" Rodney waved his hands  
decisively. "I demand it! Not possible Its not possible!"

 

"Um -" John's brain whirled frantically. Not good, not good! "Yes, that's it! Go  
away or I'll confound you with more amazing things I can do." He paused for  
affect. "Or I'll," he continued just louder, "turn it back on."

 

The only sounds John heard were the muffled noises of towels being moved. Shit.

 

Rodney's eyes narrowed and John could see the synapses firing, connecting the  
dots. "Oh I cannot believe you," he said fiercely. "What, am I supposed to beat  
my chest and be proud for the male half of my species?" He started to peer  
around John's body, trying to get a better look at the doorway behind him, so  
hed be at the optimum angle for when it opened. "Is she hot?"

 

"Rodney," John whispered. "This isn't what you think it is and it's also none of  
your business." Since the ruse was broken, John had no qualms about getting  
handsy. He grabbed Rodney by the arm and started pulling him to the door.

 

Rodney smacked at him in a surprisingly effective manner. "Stop manhandling me!  
Don't you think you've done enough of that? Who's in there? Tell me it's not  
that number from the planet with the fuzzy chicken!"

 

"What part of 'none of your business' do you not understand?" John hissed,  
tugging harder.

 

"I just thought that--" Rodney started vehemently and then stopped abruptly. "I  
just thought that it might've been--"

 

The bathroom door opened and Rodney's eyes went impossibly wide as his lips went  
slack with surprise.

 

McKay was at least wearing a towel, John noted with relief, before he was  
momentarily distracted by his first unencumbered view of McKays body. McKay  
wasn't by any means old-looking, just older than Rodney. There was actual muscle  
mass to be seen, but there were also the shadow of illness; small places where  
his skin bagged unnaturally, telltale signs of sudden weight loss.

 

Rodney ripped his arm from John's grasp. "Well if it isn't Mrs. Robinson," he  
sneered and then shook his head. "No, never mind." He turned to John. "Funny  
definition of none of my business," he spat, before turning on his heel and  
leaving.

 

John nearly went after him until he realized that he was only in boxers and a  
t-shirt and also that McKay was still there, looking gray and sick. He led him  
to the bed and pushed him down without any resistance. "Need some water?"

 

McKay shook his head. "No, just give me a minute," he said shakily. "I didn't  
actually expect to feel that bad, which is stupid I suppose."

 

"I should talk to him." John sat down next to McKay.

 

"No." McKay shook his head. "I should." He stood up, palmed the pill bottles on  
the table, and shuffled into the bathroom. He reappeared dressed a few minutes  
later, and stared at John sadly. "A better man would say we probably shouldn't  
do this again."

 

"Talk to him first," John said with his head in his hand, feeling unbelievably  
bad in ways he couldn't begin to describe. "And then see how good a man you  
are."

 

McKay grimaced at him and nodded, slipping out the door, looking alarmingly like  
a man trying to be nonchalant. On anybody else it would have been a huge  
tip-off.

 

John finally got his shower, though it left him feeling cold and chafed.  
Purposefully avoiding the labs, John spent the rest of the day doing the sorts  
of things the military commander of an active base was expected to do. Work out,  
harass the marines, check in on various tasks, attend a thoroughly boring  
briefing, and of course, harass the marines.

 

In his brief stint in the mess, Zelenka once again hurried in, piled a tray high  
and hurried back out. He looked more harried than the last time. John winced  
guiltily, ducked his head, and stared at his food. He didn't fail to notice that  
he didn't see Rodney all day.

 

"Medical emergency in science lab three!" Rodney's panicked voice called over  
the general intercom.

 

John ran, getting there just after Beckett's medical team. McKay was on the  
floor waving away the people hovering over him.

 

"I'm fine. Though it's possible I hurt my back when I went down. Ow," he  
muttered as he sat up.

 

"Rodney slugged him," Zelenka announced.

 

The entire room glared at him and Rodney immediately waved his hands in front of  
his body. "No, no, no! I did not! Radek!"

 

"He didnt," McKay confirmed from the floor.

 

"Shut up, Rodney," Beckett ordered, staring at his scans. "How is this  
possible?" He pressed some buttons frantically.

 

McKay smiled smugly. "How much is gone?"

 

"You'd just begun to metastasis last time I checked." Beckett ran the scanner  
over him again.

 

"What?" Rodney snapped. "He'd begun to *what*?"

 

Oh, too many questions with too many Rodneys. John stepped up. "How about we not  
have this conversation here?"

 

"Yes," Rodney nodded and snapped his fingers at Zelenka. "Keep working,  
something is obviously going right." He pointed at Beckett and McKay. "You two,  
the infirmary now." He pointed to John next. "And you, Dustin Hoffman, you don't  
look surprised enough, you're coming too."

 

John was willing to admit he may have dragged his heels on the way, sticking  
around to make sure Rodney really hadn't decked McKay, because any sort of  
physical altercation was the kind of thing he needed to know about. Yes, it  
definitely was.

 

He caught up with the group mid explanation; Rodney was standing silently, arms  
wrapped around himself. McKay interrupted occasionally to add a word here and  
there, but for the most part, he let Beckett speak.

 

Finally, when it was all done, Rodney tapped his foot rapidly on the floor,  
fingers fluttering against his arm in random patterns. "What, are you insane?"  
he finally yelled. "Carson, you thought this was a good idea?"

 

"I thought it was a horrible idea," Beckett said.

 

"Hello?" McKay interrupted from the table, waving his hands between the two of  
them. "Are we forgetting the part where it worked?"

 

"Are we forgetting the part where you fell to the floor in enormous pain?"  
Rodney mocked.

 

"Yes, I am. The throbbing in my lower back is completely ignorable." McKay's  
eyes beamed happiness. "It worked!" he said, a small little laugh escaping. The  
last time John had seen that look, it had been about a month before 5/6th of a  
solar system had blown up on his ass.

 

"Wonderful!" Rodney threw his hands up, spinning in a little circle. "You're one  
step further away from dying."

 

"Yes," McKay agreed. "Once again my brilliance is overshadowed by other people's  
jealousy."

 

Rodney's eyes narrowed. "You didn't just--"

 

"Rodney!" John snapped frantically. "Not that time for this." Taking a deep  
breath he stepped between them and muttered to McKay, "I thought you said you'd  
talk to him."

 

Rodney crossed his arms. "You're assuming I was willing to listen."

 

John resisted the palm to forehead movement that seemed inevitable in this sort  
of situation. "Rodney, McKay," he addressed both of them, teeth gritted. "We're  
all adults here, though apparently only in the most nominal sense. Go back to  
work as soon as it's okay with Beckett, do that thing you do so well, and find  
some time to talk, civilly."

 

Rodney frowned. "But-"

 

"No," John interrupted, turning to Rodney. "No," he said again for good measure.

 

He left, mostly because he really didn't want to hear them start up again,  
though he did make a mental note to do something nice for the Doc later. Beckett  
really deserved it, despite having brought some of it on himself, what with the  
big mouth and all.

 

******

 

That night, when his door opened, John was awake, sitting against the wall on  
his bed, pretending to read the book on his lap.

 

"Hello, John."

 

He didn't look up, but he was damn startled that it was McKay and not Rodney  
standing there. John had expected Rodney to demand first verbal assaulting  
rights or something else completely insane and utterly Rodney.. "Why do you say  
my name like that?"

 

"Like what?" McKays slow footsteps could be heard as he made his way closer to  
the bed.

 

"Like some creepy stalker," John said, shifting his legs so McKay had someplace  
to sit.

 

"I didn't get to say it for a long time," McKay said, settling onto the bed.  
"And when I did, it was always in the past tense."

 

John closed his book carefully, setting it aside in case McKay showed any of  
that sudden energy again. He wasnt sure he wanted to know, but, "So, how did  
that conversation go?"

 

McKay studied his hands carefully, not looking up when he spoke. "It went," he  
said. "We came to an agreement."

 

Eyeing him suspiciously, John muttered, "If the word timeshare is uttered,  
you're sleeping on the floor."

 

McKay's laughter was bitter. "No," he assured, "the word timeshare never came  
up." He reached out and snagged one of John's ankles, pressing down in the  
perfect spot. "Surprisingly enough, once we stopped yelling, we found some  
common ground."

 

"Who knew?" John rolled his foot and found it caught up in the strong grip of  
McKay's hands, which unerringly found each every sore spot.

 

"He'd prefer if he didn't see very much of you while I'm around," McKay said.  
"That is, if you're still on board with the 'comfort the dying selfish bastard'  
plan."

 

John swallowed heavily. That was the crux of it wasn't it? What exactly was he  
doing? Rodney appeared in his minds eye, scowling and irascible and irritating  
and the person he trusted most in two galaxies. There had been something brewing  
between them for a long time; it was tumultuous, a little bit dangerous, and  
explosive, but also mellow and sweet and perfect in its own way.

 

He looked at McKay who sat there patiently, switching to Johns other foot,  
working magic with his thumb and forefinger. John liked to think that they could  
get there one day, dodge all the bullets of their lives, the credible, the  
incredible, the Rodneyesque, and find some sort of happy balance. Someplace  
where they complemented each other, traveled through time for each other, John  
had no doubt that McKay was telling the complete truth, he *was* a selfish  
bastard. Getting John back was all he really wanted. The rest was just icing.

 

John tugged gently at McKay's arm, pulling him until they were even. He pressed  
three firm kisses into McKay's lips, closing his eyes and feeling the heavy  
thrill that raced through him. "Come on, you look like crap. Let's get some  
sleep."

 

"You sweet talker, you," McKay muttered, reaching for John's shirt, slipping it  
over his head with practiced ease. Silently they took off what needed to be  
taken off and slid into sleep between one slow touch and another.

 

******

 

Another morning, another hit and run blow job that left John stuttering and  
quivering uncontrollably and had McKay ambling off into the shower before John  
could pull enough brain cells together to remember why he should try and stop  
him. Really, that had to stop, he felt bad enough about the whole thing in a lot  
of ways.

 

This time at least he barged into the shower successfully and they made out  
through the entire hair washing process, which took more skill and coordination  
than he had thought.

 

After dressing and successfully shaking off his vaguely guilty feeling, John  
skipped the mess on his first walk through, figuring he could hit it on the way  
back. Rodney was puttering silently in the lab. Without a word of warning, John  
walked in, hooked a hand around his arm, and dragged until they reached Rodney's  
office.

 

"Oh my god! You dislocated my shoulder!" Rodney complained, rubbing the area  
vigorously.

 

"I did not," John said automatically, but watched carefully as Rodney rolled it  
without any trouble. He looked around the room, noting the piles of unorganized  
crap and the fine layer of dust. "You do know this is your office, right?"

 

"I'm too important to stay locked in some small stuffy room." Rodney ran a  
finger through the dust on his desk and sniffed it. Then he sneezed loudly.  
"Besides," he said stuffily. "All the good stuff is out there anyway."

 

He had a point and arguing it wasn't really why John had dragged them in there  
in the first place. "That, I can understand."

 

"Good for you." Rodney crossed his arms, injury obviously forgotten. "I thought  
the older, less attractive me was supposed to tell you to keep away."

 

John pinched the bridge of his nose. Words were obviously not the way to go,  
which was okay, because he wasn't really a talking kind of guy. He was a tongue  
down the throat, hand up your shirt, hey when did your fly get undone kind of  
guy. His hands closed over Rodney's arms, moving him in quick steps backwards  
towards the wall.

 

Rodney was going on about how easily he bruised and how fair his skin was and  
that everyone would know if John beat him up and how juvenile was John anyway?  
John ignored him and settled himself carefully, but firmly and mostly definitely  
*bodily* against Rodney, letting out a satisfied 'Hmm' as they clicked together  
easily.

 

Lips, tongues, teeth, hands all firmly entrenched themselves in Rodney, who  
stopped his tirade to make a startled "oh." John licked inside Rodneys mouth  
and wrapped his arms around Rodney's warm body as it settled against him  
perfectly. Oh yeah, that was it, a bit messier than McKay, more unpracticed,  
they still had to learn a few things here and there. Rodney's leg twined around  
John's, easy and pliable. The hip action was nice too, all slow and languid  
movement.

 

Rodney had his hands buried in John's hair, carding through it unconsciously  
when they finally parted. One last slow peck and John braced their foreheads  
together.

 

"What," Rodney breathed, "was that?" His hands slowly traced the hair line on  
the back of Johns neck "Not that I'm complaining or anything." He froze  
momentarily. "Wait, did you actually say no to him?"

 

"No," John said, more annoyed than he thought he should be with someone he  
kissed that well with. "That was me telling you, that if you want, we can pick  
this up later, when things aren't so, you know, like a plot to a bad sci-fi  
show."

 

"Ah." Rodney unfroze. "I ah, that is, ah-- mmphhh!"

 

John decided to put Rodney out of his misery with another kiss; they probably  
communicated better that way anyway.

 

When they parted, John whispered, "Thank you," and peeled himself away.

 

Rodney shrugged and dusted himself free of imaginary lint. "Hey, it's not like I  
can't understand where he's coming from."

 

John raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

 

"Really," Rodney said quietly, head tilted down. "Okay, so the cancer thing is a  
bit out of my sphere of understanding, but imminent death isn't. And I  
understand want." He peered up through his lashes. "Need, desperation. I get  
that. A lot."

 

"Rodney -" John's voice broke right at the end because he wasn't ready to deal  
with this, this emotion you were supposed to build up to, small little doses of  
poison that led to the whole not being quite so overwhelming. "Don't ever let  
anyone say you're not a gracious sort of guy."

 

Rodney shrugged again. "You're not exactly cheating on me." He finally looked  
John in the eye. "And it's not like there was anything to cheat *on*."

 

"You're right," John admitted. "But there is now." Which was a huge fat  
conscience saving lie. There had been, just the teeniest bit of a sapling dying  
of thirst, but it had been there. Cheating wasn't about the defined lines so  
much as the undefined lines.

 

"Well, good." Rodney's cheeks took on a rosy color. "Now off with you." He made  
shooing motions. "I have very important work to finish, and you have technique  
to learn." Rodney opened the door with the flick of his hand. "You better be a  
good study," he threw over his shoulder on the way out.

 

John ran a hand through his hair and couldn't help but feel that maybe he'd just  
lost control of a whole lot of things beside the conversation. He smiled slowly;  
he was going to have a hell of a lot of fun getting it back.

 

******

 

It was to John's complete and utter surprise when McKay appeared at the staff  
meeting later that day. Then he learned that McKay himself had actually  
scheduled it -- that would teach him not to look at all the details on his memos  
next time.

 

It was of even greater surprise when McKay demanded an off-world mission to an  
abandoned planet they'd scouted out a year ago. The fact that he wouldn't say  
why and remained stubbornly silent about the whole thing wasnt surprising at  
all.

 

Three hours later, John, Ronon, Teyla, McKay, and Beckett were geared up and  
ready to go. Beckett looked unhappy, but McKay had insisted that he come,  
complete with a fully stocked emergency field kit. That stipulation alone  
quieted anymore objections the doctor had.

 

McKay came up beside John, weapon steady in his hands as he rechecked its  
readiness. "Older model than I'm used to, but I remember how to use it," he  
assured.

 

It didnt really make John feel much better about the whole thing. McKay was  
looking healthier by comparison than the day before, but he still didn't look  
*healthy*. Beckett had demanded to know why Rodney couldn't go instead.

 

"He's got enough to do here and he won't know what to look for." After that it  
was back to tight-lipped McKay.

 

So John found himself on an empty planet full of trees and rocks and unfamiliar  
animal sounds. McKay took point, which was really weird, but he navigated them  
around a few fairly well-hidden traps without too much trouble. The fine sheen  
of sweat on his skin was worrisome, but they were headed towards a series of  
caves that weren't too far away.

 

At the mouth of the cave, McKay stopped them all with a silent hand signal and  
absorbed himself in the readings from his Ancient scanning device. Finally he  
smiled broadly and let his hand drop. "Peter," he called quietly.

 

John looked at McKay, ready to wrestle him back to the gate. Teyla and Beckett  
both shifted uncomfortably. Ronon just waited.

 

"Peter," he called again. "It's Rodney. Come on before we all have to run for  
it."

 

Run for it? Before John could ask, rustling came from darkness inside the cave  
and then a thin, dirty, beaten, and injured looking man appeared.

 

"Peter?" Beckett gasped.

 

"Rodney?" the man asked as he came closer, and only Ronon had the presence of  
mind to raise his weapon. "What the hell happened to you, man?"

 

McKay smiled. "Long story. He turned to Beckett. "You up for a little surgery?"

 

Beckett blinked heavily. "What on earth are you--"

 

"Runner," Ronon interrupted. "How long have you been here?

 

"Not long," Peter said. "I only come back every couple of weeks to sleep and  
drop off a few supplies."

 

"He's building a radio." McKay said. "But originally it took him another year  
and a half to contact us."

 

Beckett was already taking off his pack and hunting through it. "How did you  
know he'd be here."

 

"I asked," McKay said.

 

Well then, apparently there *was* such a thing as a simple answer.

 

They sent Ronon and Teyla back to Atlantis for a litter and supplies. Peter was  
more than happy to be unconscious during surgery and John wasn't too keen on  
being tracked back to Atlantis, so Beckett grit his teeth and bared it once  
again.

 

John stared long and hard at Peter Grodin as he slid down the cave wall and  
looked like he was relaxed for the first time in probably months. Rodney sat  
next to him, looking a little gray in the face. "How you doing, McKay?"

 

"Oh, nothing a little shift in the space time continuum won't cure." McKay waved  
him off. "Shouldn't you be doing something manly and military?"

 

John glared mildly and turned to Beckett. "You need anything else?"

 

Beckett shook his head. "That's okay, Colonel, everything I need I put on the  
list for Teyla and Ronon. Just do me a favor and keep it quiet. I dislike  
operating around gunfire."

 

John nodded and heard Grodin make a startled exclamation. That's right, the rank  
thing. He assumed McKay was getting Grodin up to speed because they quickly  
settled back into quiet conversation. John walked past them with a nod and  
resumed his perimeter check.

 

 

Ronon and Teyla returned with the supplies and Beckett made quick work of the  
surgery, despite being in the most non-antiseptic field possible. John rolled  
his eyes at the mutterings coming from the man and made a note to remind him  
about conditions in field hospitals and M*A*S*H units in earlier wars.

 

McKay spent most of the time with his gun clamped in his hand, sitting painfully  
still near the cave entrance. He looked tired and sick, the sheen of sweat on  
his face casting almost a sallow shade.

 

As soon as Beckett dropped the tracker to the floor and stomped down on it with  
a muted crunch, everyone breathed a silent sigh of relief. Beckett finished the  
surgery with quick precise movements that John frankly admired and silently  
applauded. The quicker they were off this planet the better.

 

At one point, McKay levered himself upright, using the rock wall for support,  
John couldn't help but swoop in and wrap one hand around McKay's sweating arm,  
fingers pressing in almost too firmly.

 

McKay glared at the help, but gave him a quick head tilt of appreciation before  
moving off further into the cave and slowly bending to collect Grodin's meager  
possessions.

 

Walking through the other side of the wormhole was like walking onto a stage; a  
sea of faces staring at them in silent awe, the lights bright in John's eyes,  
making him squint. Then there was one clap and another and more and it doubled  
and tripled and compounded until John's lungs felt compressed with the weight of  
the sound as it achieved physical form and reverberated through him in dense  
waves.

 

Beckett took off with his patient as soon as he could fight through the crowd.  
Elizabeth walked up to them, beaming brightly, and gave everyone she could reach  
a one-armed hug. Finally she stood in front of McKay, foot tapping and arms  
crossed, though she couldn't mute her happiness. "You could have told us, you  
know. It's not like I would have said no."

 

McKay just looked at her, snappy retort completely encased in his eyes. "This  
way was more fun."

 

Elizabeth shook her head, the half-smile never leaving her face. "Well, for  
future reference, I'd appreciated a bit more warning." She raised her hands to  
McKay's shoulders, giving him a cross between a shake and a squeeze.  
Surprisingly, it was McKay that drew her in for a tight hug while she barely  
managed to suppress a girlish squeak.

 

John smiled at the sight; McKay swung her in a little half-twirl before putting  
her down.

 

"Well," Elizabeth said, once she'd regained her balance. "Thank you Rod-- McKay.  
Carry on." She walked off, still looking flustered.

 

Even thought he was still gray and tired, McKay managed to look rosy and pleased  
all at once, his smile taking away the worst of the deep circles and sallow  
skin.

 

"Feeling better?" John asked, leading them away from the gateroom and down the  
small series of makeshift locker rooms.

 

"She deserved it, that's all." McKay shrugged, unbuckling his vest slowly. "I'm  
a man of regrets, John, and not appreciating her is one of the big ones."

 

The statement hit John directly in the gut. A tight feeling built steadily at  
the weight of heavy regret radiating off McKay's shoulders. John turned and  
finished his own armor removal. When he turned back, McKay was still sitting,  
not facing him, head bowed. John sat down next to him and bumped their shoulders  
gently.

 

McKay dislodged his hand from his face and John got a glimpse of a white tissue,  
wet with blood.

 

"What the hell?" John's hand immediately went to his headset ready to call for  
help until McKay brushed him off.

 

"Gums are bleeding," he said around the tissues. "Nothing new."

 

John jumped up and got his half-full canteen, from his locker space. "You've got  
meds for this?"

 

"Yeah. Carson handed me the entire spectrum. There's a bottle in my vest, has a  
couple of each, hand it to me." He fumbled with the bottle in his hands; they  
shook slightly around the plastic before the cap opened. He sorted through the  
various pills quickly and downed two of them. "It's not really a solution, you  
know." McKay gestured vaguely at the bottles.

 

John nodded, watching the bottle disappear into McKay's pocket. "Nothing I say  
is going to convince you to see Beckett?"

 

"Nothing," McKay confirmed. "I can however," he stretched slowly, hands pushing  
at his back to help it arch, "be convinced to take a nap."

 

They walked down the corridor, John having assimilated McKay's slower gait over  
the last few days, didn't miss a step when McKay took the lead and once again,  
turned left when he should have turned right.

 

John vaguely recognized the section they had wandered into as someplace that had  
been cleared, but summarily dismissed for the time being because there werent  
any toys that lit up and sparkled. Now, however, as McKay opened a large, dusty  
door into a spacious room with a large balcony and floor to ceiling windows,  
John decided to rethink their assessment. It was obviously a set of high-end  
residential quarters, with a living room and kitchen and several small doors  
lining the far side of the room.

 

"This way," McKay said quietly, leading them to one of the other doors. It  
opened up into a comfortable looking bedroom. "No offense to your bed; I've got  
a number of fond memories in which it has a starring role, but I'm tired and  
sore and would rather not imitate a pretzel while trying to get some rest."

 

The bed was a strange size between queen and king but it was soft enough. Once  
the covering was removed, it was also surprisingly clean. McKay was already  
crawling into it, looking weary, a fading shadow of his usual self. John slid in  
beside him and wrapped his arms around McKay's waist, pulling him close and  
hooking a chin over his shoulder.

 

McKay was asleep instantly and John sighed slowly, blowing his breath out  
between pursed lips. "What am I going to do with you?"

 

******

 

Grodin's reintegration into the city was punctuated by large groups of people  
wandering around looking just a little bit too happy. John arranged for drunk  
patrol, mostly making sure no one passed out or vomited on the wrong bit of  
electronics.

 

John and Elizabeth had an informal debriefing with Grodin the evening of his  
return. In a quiet exchange of information, Grodin told them of a few allies  
he'd managed to develop and some useful stargate addresses. Elizabeth explained  
that if he wanted to, he was welcome to take a trip back to Earth for however  
long he wished.

 

Grodin nodded at the information, looking a little wary. "I think I'd just like  
to enjoy sitting still for a while, if it's all the same to you, Doctor, Maj--  
Sorry, Colonel."

 

Nodding, John gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder and then arranged for a  
guard to play go-between for all of Grodin's would be visitors.

 

The roar of accomplishment never quite left Atlantis and that day was the one  
where everything clicked. The labs poured out tiny accomplishments, everything  
from Ancient green houses -- which used surprisingly little energy, they seemed  
to be one of the only bits of technology to take advantage of the sun and the  
natural motion of the water -- to new scientific theory that advanced their  
previous knowledge by hundreds of years.

 

Rodney finally deigned to get his own food from the mess and John couldn't help  
but notice the flush of discovery stark on his face. He bounced all around  
Zelenka as they stood in line and Zelenka looked only mildly put upon, although  
he did get a sympathetic look from the server and a second desert stuck on his  
plate.

 

McKay stepped in a few minutes later and John realized that it was the first  
time he'd seen them together in as public a setting as the mess hall. Rodney and  
Zelenka took a seat in the corner, taking a break from their work.

 

Obviously ignoring one another, McKay eventually found his way to the seat  
across from John.

 

"Work going well?" John asked between bites of his own food. "The science  
department's constant cheering can be heard all the way to the control room."

 

"We're quickly approaching that point of no return," McKay answered, pushing the  
food around on his plate. "The problem inherent in ZedPM making is that you need  
power to get power, highly inefficient."

 

John watched the fork in McKay's hand not make it anywhere near his mouth.  
"Where you gonna find the power?"

 

"Same place we found it last time." McKay took a tentative bite and made a sour  
face. "Hydroponics. There's a reason I pointed the botanists towards the  
greenhouse." He took a slow sip of coffee. "Other than the fact that parts of a  
ZedPM literally need to be grown."

 

"Wow, that must have really been a fly in the ointment of the McKay way of  
life," John said. "How long did you sulk?"

 

"I did not sulk." McKay drummed his fingers on the table. "Seriously though, the  
botanists could have shown a modicum of restraint when they were told."

 

John watched McKay slowly finish his plate, making various faces at each bite.  
"You're like a five-year-old, you know that?"

 

"Shut up," McKay said around his chocolate pudding.

 

******

 

John had his hands full restructuring the patrols yet again; the more ground  
they gained, the more geometric headaches John had to endure. In addition, it  
was time to catch up on all of his back paperwork and as much as he hated it,  
everyone would know who to blame if they ran out of toilet paper and had to go  
back to that horrible cross between fabric and leaves that the Athosians were  
fond of.

 

Oddly, John always found the paperwork dealing with pay the funniest; it wasn't  
like any of them would really see most of it for a long time, but he'd done it  
as a way to mark time, to pretend they had a thin glimmer of attachment back to  
a planet they never thought they were going to see again. Once they'd  
reestablished regular contact, someone had decided that John should continue the  
upstanding job he'd been doing so far. That was what happened when you tried to  
take initiative.

 

He slipped into his quarters quietly, unsurprised to see a still lump curled up  
in the middle of his bed. Actually, there was a little surprise; he would bet  
Rodney was still plugging away at all the new toys in the lab even as McKay  
slept. He sighed quietly and toed off his boots.

 

McKay's breathing was slow and even and his eyes were closed, the lids lying  
heavily over black circles. John sighed again and slid to his knees next to the  
bed, ghosting his knuckles over McKay's cheek.

 

"mmm John?" McKay said without even opening his eyes, reaching out blindly.

 

"Hey," John said quietly, capturing the reaching hand, brushing a thumb over its  
knuckles, simultaneously struck by how easy this was, and how weirdly off it  
felt. McKays hands were too thin.

 

"What's wrong?" McKay asked, already pushing himself up.

 

John gently pushed him back down. "Nothing, I was just thinking--"

 

"Oh god no." McKay snatched his hand away and put it over his eyes.

 

"Ha ha," John said dryly.

 

"Very," McKay said smugly. "And the least you deserve for waking me up." He  
pushed up onto his side, leaning his head onto one loosely formed fist.

 

Unable to resist and a feeling a little guilty for it, John leaned in, brushing  
their lips together. Slow and tender enough to make him ache, John moved his  
lips carefully. McKay made a small, high pitched sound in the back of his throat  
and surged bodily, nearly off the bed and knocking John over.

 

"Woah there," John said, hands running down McKay's shoulders, soothing the  
sudden tremors under his skin. "Woah," he said into McKay's lips before licking  
into his mouth, the kiss shattering something between them.

 

"John," McKay said when they parted. "John, I want--" He leaned in to kiss John  
again, hanging over the edge of the bed, clawing at John's shoulders to pull him  
closer.

 

John found himself on the bed, tangled up in McKay in a very good way. He wanted  
to taste him, all of him, understand every weird feeling that McKay and by  
extension Rodney, or possibly the other way around, inspired within him. McKay's  
hands worked their way under his shirt, sliding down his back with just a hint  
of pressure.

 

He found himself on his back, shirt rucked into his armpits, eyes rolling into  
the back of his head as McKay sucked greedily on a nipple. Hands found their way  
to his pants and John finally gathered enough brain cells to stop the inevitable  
conclusion before it started. "McKay," he said, his hands closing over the ones  
near his fly.

 

McKay looked up, startled and little bit frightened. "John, what?"

 

"Hey," John said, his own aching need almost immediately forgotten. "What's  
wrong?" He pulled McKay up, wrapping his arms around his chest and holding him  
close, his hips jerking involuntarily as McKay's leg settled between his.

 

Instead of answering, McKay wrapped more firmly around him, rocking his thigh  
back and forth.

 

"McKay wha--nnnngg -" Another surprisingly strong rock of hips almost made him  
lose his thought along with the power of speech. "Stop," he said breathlessly.  
"Stop and tell me what's wrong."

 

Because something was definitely wrong, McKay's eyes were looking everywhere but  
Johns face and his hands were shaking, but subtly different; they were clammy  
against his skin instead of nicely warm and sweaty.

 

"I want," McKay whispered hoarsely. His hand grabbed at John's arm and shoulder.  
"But I haven't since you" he trailed off, face flushing with embarrassment. " I  
really want to."

 

That stopped John cold. "Not once?"

 

McKay shook his head from where it lay against John's other shoulder.

 

"And I'm guessing that's been a long time?" John said to the ceiling.

 

McKay nodded and starting moving his hand down. "That's why I was going to--"

 

"None of that," John interrupted, smacking the hand away.

 

"I should go." McKay began to push back.

 

"Did I say that?" John tightened his hold. "Just let me think." He stroked down  
McKay's back, once again momentarily disturbed by the lack of padding under his  
fingers. "Do you trust me?"

 

McKay nodded, his hair brushing against John's chest.

 

John didn't bother responding, just sat up gently, taking McKay with him.  
Silently, they stripped; John sliding McKay's shirt over his head, letting his  
hands run down his sides, tracing the odd contours, noting the odd bruise here  
or there, taking the time to kiss them gently.

 

He kept them on an even keel; for every piece of clothing he gently removed from  
McKay, he'd take off his own matching piece. McKay's wide eyes made him warm all  
over.

 

John stood, slid his pants off, and then pushed McKay back down to the bed,  
slowly tracing fingers down his naked chest and around the waistband of his  
pants. McKay lifted his hips obligingly as John slid them off, taking his  
underwear with them.

 

Almost shyly, McKay pushed up onto his elbows and watched John's every movement.  
John took his time, learning curves and bumps and hollows that seemed wrong on  
his super-imposed image of Rodney. It wasn't fair to anyone involved how he  
really didn't see a difference between the two of them, but he couldn't help it  
during these soft quiet moments.

 

McKay's half erection left a nice solid feeling in John's palm; the soft mix  
between a moan and groan gave him a little shock of pleasure.

 

"John," McKay whispered brokenly, and reached for him.

 

John spread out next to him, one hand tracing small circles on any skin he could  
reach, kissing McKay leisurely and intensely. His other hand took long, careful  
strokes up and down McKay's cock, feeling the skin slowly, so very slowly,  
stretch and tighten like a sunrise after a long storm, the first weak rays  
peeking through the clouds. It warmed in John's hand, perfect and sweet.

 

"Oh," McKay sighed. "Oh that's that's very nice." He curled around John,  
holding on tightly, thrusting his cock in and out of John's careful fist in a  
slow and even pace. "Oh yeah."

 

The wonder on McKay's face, the absolute joy he took in being right there at  
that moment was just as arousing as those morning blow jobs McKay kept sneaking  
up on him with. John kept the pace as steady as possible, letting McKay enjoy  
himself.

 

Finally, long minutes later, John felt a shift in McKay's hips, a hint of  
desperation in his kisses. John went faster, twisting at the end and McKay  
buried his face in John's neck, gasping sharply with each breath.

 

"Oh, John." McKay managed to make his name sound like a broken plea and some  
sort of reverent exultation at the same time. It was scary and thrilling and  
made John work harder, wringing out pleasurable half-gasps that sunk into John's  
skin and made his dick twitch with each one.

 

McKay clung to him, slick with sweat, broken pleas bubbling out of his mouth, a  
constant series of directions that changed with each twist of John's hand.

 

"Please just--" McKay said to him, mouth wide open, lips wet, "oh right--  
there-- yes."

 

John swallowed the words in a kiss, sucking on McKay's agile tongue, dipping in  
and out of his mouth in ever quickening licks. John's dick found a nice  
comfortable place on McKay's hip, the friction perfect and overwhelming.

 

Soon though, dull pain bloomed in John's wrist and he couldn't keep the pace up.  
He ached to come, he was so close it hurt, but McKay's pleas had turned sour and  
he was shaking his head. "Sorry," he said, "sorry, sorry, I told you--"

 

"Shhh--" John covered his lips in another long kiss. "That was only idea number  
one." He shimmied down McKay's body, leaving a trail of wet open-mouthed kisses  
on his skin. "I'm a plethora of naughty ideas."

 

"Keep using-- oh" he gasped as John carefully took an experimental lick, "using  
those big words-- ohmygod!" McKay slammed back onto the bed when John took his  
head into his mouth. His hands reached for John's hair. "Big words and I'll come  
in no time."

 

John started slowly again, listening to McKay, letting his body and voice direct  
him. Soon their hands were tangled in a tight grip and John was remembering his  
advanced blow job lessons as McKay rocked in and out of his mouth.

 

John didn't stop him. Instead he breathed deeply, taking in the sweaty musk of  
the other man and shuddering in time with him, his cock grinding into the  
mattress underneath. He wanted to hump his way through the bed as McKay fucked  
his mouth. Finally, finally, that perfect line of tension started at the base of  
his spine and John could feel it run through McKay. His voice went higher and  
pleading and if possible, more breathy.

 

"Oh-- I-- John I---" McKay rocked uncontrollably and John let him, not surprised  
that somehow, McKay knew how not to choke him. "That's it-- right-- just don't  
move-- oh"

 

John's eyes fought to stay open as his entire body tightened into one long mass  
of muscle and released in blinding shudders and uncontrollable stuttering.

 

"Oh" McKay breathed, "did you-- oh!" Long slow pulses were caught in John's  
mouth and he sucked McKay gently through each and every shudder and whine and  
tremble until finally he lay limp and still, breathing hard.

 

McKay's spent cock slipped from Johns mouth with ease and John pulled himself  
up to sprawl next to McKay. "Told you so," he muttered smugly, kissing his  
shoulder softly.

 

"Okay, note for the future." McKay carded limp fingers through John's hair. "You  
once informed me that's not as romantic as one would think."

 

"I know it's been a while, Rodney, but this is where you fall asleep."

 

******

 

McKay was still deeply asleep when John slipped out of bed the next morning and  
he didn't feel bad at all letting him continue to sleep as he stealthily  
showered and dressed. It was a talent he had learned years before when hed been  
tagged for the first round of special training.

 

Four hours into his day Rodney stomped over to him and crossed his arms; brows  
set to stun and lips pressed angrily together. "What did you do to him?"

 

John stopped, because with the way his day was going, him could mean so many  
people. "Excuse me?"

 

"He practically limped into the lab," Rodney said. "Late, and looking like the  
last time I spent three days drinking and whoring my way through Toronto."

 

John breathed his spit down the wrong pipe and choked hard enough for Rodney to  
actually look alarmed. John waved him away. "Okay, first I'm not sure which is  
less plausible, you drinking and whoring, or Toronto."

 

"Fine." Rodney shrugged. "I had two strawberry daiquiris and passed out next to  
a women's studies grad student."

 

John bit his lip and tried to look serious.

 

"She wore open-toe shoes!" Rodney insisted, arms opening wide in supplication.

 

"The hussy," John announced, still biting back laughter.

 

Rodney shook his head. "Stop distracting me. What did you do to him and if it  
has anything to do with long hours of really hot and moderately kinky sex, is it  
wrong that turns me on?"

 

"Kinky?" Oh, Jesus, Rodney really needed to get laid, or at least learn not to  
spill every single thing on his mind out his mouth. Especially little  
revelations like that. John shook his head. "Never mind. I did nothing to him."  
He winced. "Or nothing that should have left him limping and looking like he  
just went on a three day bender."

 

"Huh," Rodney said distractedly.

 

John went for his pistol. "Huh?"

 

"Nothing," Rodney shook his head, "I'm just disappointed."

 

John resisted the hand to forehead maneuver and sighed deeply. "I promise to  
physically injure you in the name of miraculous orgasm some day soon."  
Unintentionally his voice lowered and husked and there was an uncontrollable  
lean in his upper body, the kind that if he'd found in his car, would have  
landed it in the shop for at least a day.

 

Rodney swallowed loudly. "Uh, um. Great. Thanks." Then he shook his head  
violently. "Distracting me!"

 

"Possibly." John shrugged. "Look, he's pretty sick, I thought you knew that."

 

"Yeah well, he looks sicker," Rodney said quietly before turning on his heal and  
leaving.

 

******

 

The arrival of the Daedalus stirred up a mix of good and bad energy in Atlantis.  
For John, it meant tightening up his Soldier routine and generally not being in  
the same room as Caldwell if there wasn't a briefing going on. It was a mutually  
beneficial solution, except that there always seemed to be some extra crisis  
that needed to be managed and their initial briefings often extended for hours  
past the allotted time.

 

And the addition of an extra McKay and a presumed dead, with good reason, Grodin,  
the meeting quickly ground to an exceeding frustrated halt.

 

Of course, the look on Caldwell's face made up for the first few hours.

 

"They beamed me out," Grodin told them. He was first on the agenda and John  
couldn't blame Elizabeth. Grodin still looked like he hadn't slept in three  
months. "I could see the walls breaking apart around me even as they did it."

 

Caldwell nodded thoughtfully. "Any idea why they didn't just stick you into  
storage?"

 

Grodin nodded. "We were new to them," he said carefully. "We used tactics that  
were, I guess the word is strange. Most importantly?" He paused looking at each  
of their faces. "We were apparently succeeding and that didn't sit well with  
them."

 

"Resistance," McKay said from his corner of the table, "was a concept they  
hadn't dealt with in nearly 10,000 years."

 

Rodney made a disbelieving noise. "I'm sorry, what we're doing is winning in  
their book? I was pretty sure it was much closer hanging on by the skin of our  
teeth."

 

"Five hive ships, Rodney." John felt compelled to remind him.

 

"Out of at least sixty," Rodney shot back.

 

John watched McKay bite his lip and stare staunchly at a spot on the wall to the  
left of John's head. "Always the downer, Rodney."

 

"What did they do after they beamed you up?" Caldwell pressed on, giving both  
Rodney and McKay a quelling look that did little to dent their dispositions.

 

"I was brought to meet the Queen, but since I knew nothing of the plans other  
than the worst case scenarios, I wasn't the font of information they were  
looking for." Grodin's fingers began a nervous tap on the table and John made a  
note to talk to him later. He was the only other person who'd spent one-on-one  
time with a Queen and lived to tell the tale.

 

Caldwell put his pen down and took a deep breath. "I hate to ask this, but did  
you tell them anything else?"

 

Grodin shook his head, "They scanned me with something, got all excited, and I  
was hustled off someplace a dart could pick me up. Next thing I know, I'm  
rematerialized- he grimaced and touched the back of his neck, "and dropped off  
with an implanted tracking device, a single weapon, and no hope."

 

"Any idea why?" John asked. "Did they give any indication of their intentions?"

 

"None. It was an easy assumption about what they'd implanted, though they were  
slow in getting to me."

 

John nodded. "Probably a side affect of us kicking their asses."

 

Grodin smiled warmly, the first one, John suspected, in a while.

 

Caldwell was pleasantly kind and only asked a few more probing questions,  
looking for any potential security leaks. A few codes and protocols needed to be  
changed, but it seemed that Wraith hadn't had time for a full investigation.  
Grodin's part in the whole meeting ended with his quiet pronouncement that he'd  
be leaving with the Daedalus on the next run.

 

"What?" McKay sat up straight. "No, Peter you can't."

 

"Dr. McKay," Elizabeth said firmly, "Peter can do whatever he pleases."

 

McKay didn't argue, but he looked ready to continue the point as soon as he  
didn't have any adult supervision.

 

When they were done, Grodin got up; looking incredibly grateful to be leaving.  
John noticed a tinge of understanding on both Rodney and McKay's faces.

 

The rest of the meeting was taken up with updating Caldwell, as well as everyone  
else in the room, though mostly it was interspersed with a verbal tug of war  
between McKay and Caldwell about future events, with Rodney chiming in now and  
then.

 

"No offense, Dr. McKay, but you're not exactly the best judge of useful tactical  
information," Caldwell argued.

 

"Shows what you know," McKay said over Rodney's shouted 'Hey!' "And it's been a  
long time and I'm alive and you're dead. So really, one person's scared out of  
their mind dive behind a large rock is another person's tactical and well  
thought out plan."

 

Caldwell took his apparent death with classic flyboy stoicism and changed the  
subject.

 

By the end, John was left with the impression they were in the wait portion of  
'hurry up and'. The mineral and plant life for the ZPM was coming along and the  
botany department was practically orgasmic with glee over the rest of the  
greenhouse. The Ancient data bases were slowly having their wheels greased and  
some random bits of Ancient technology were waking up and being calibrated.

 

Beckett's report was terse, so much so that John had a sneaking suspicion that  
he was attempting to spill McKay's secret without actually spilling it. It was  
sneaky, and John couldn't really bring himself to disagree.

 

"I'd like to have McKay in for a visit soon. He's got a handy piece of  
technology sitting in his arm and as it's mostly from Earth, I think it should  
be fairly easy to understand." Beckett said. "I'll need an engineer to work on  
it with me though."

 

"Fredicks," McKay suggested immediately.

 

Rodney shrugged. "Fine."

 

******

 

Long hours later, John finally left the briefing room with the internal cry of  
'Freedom!' ringing through his head and a happy smile plastered to his face.  
Even the air on the other side of the door felt fresher. Beckett, in an  
uncharacteristic fit of rudeness, practically pushed past him and John got a  
completely uncalled for mental image of a kilt and a broadsword.

 

The smile stayed, lurking just under his semiserious demeanor, undeterred by  
even the food in the mess.

 

"Carson I need you in Science Lab Three *now*!" Rodney's panicked voice came  
over the common channel, high-pitched and quick. John was out the door before  
the acknowledgement even hit his ears.

 

He met them on the way. McKay's form way curled up on the gurney, his skin pale  
and sweating, practically gray.

 

"What's happening?" John demanded.

 

"I don't know!" Beckett snapped. "And don't you dare get in my way."

 

John walked next to Rodney, listening to a stream of medical jargon that quickly  
went over his head. It translated to 'Very bad, McKay is dying.' The urge to  
take Rodney's hand and squeeze it tightly surged higher with each needle and  
scan. The feeling of utter helplessness was so choking it left a bitter taste in  
his mouth.

 

Long minutes later, Beckett finally stepped back and stopped moving, studying  
his readings carefully. "Well, you stubborn mule, you're not dead yet, but you  
will be soon."

 

"Love you too, Carson." McKay said weakly, the sarcasm holding less bite than  
normal. "So, how am I dying now?"

 

Beckett gave him a long hard look. "It's your stomach."

 

McKay closed his eyes tightly. "Yeah, okay. That sucks."

 

Beside him, Rodney sucked in a quick breath. So basically, quicker and more  
painful.

 

Beckett looked like he was about to say more, but he just closed his mouth and  
nodded.

 

John watched Beckett fuss around for a few more minutes, adding devices to McKay  
with alarming frequency. Rodney took two quick steps forward to stare wide-eyed  
at his doppelganger, hands twitching nervously at his sides.

 

His eyes darted back and forth between McKay, lying prone in the bed, and the  
doors to the infirmary off to the right. John stepped up behind him, settling  
just outside of Rodney's personal space. "You okay?"

 

"I'm watching myself die," Rodney snapped.

 

"So that would be a no."

 

"Hey," McKay called from under miles of tubing and cables and white hospital  
blankets. "I'm not dead yet."

 

Rodney pointed a finger at him which practically screamed accusation. "If you  
say you feel better, so help me"

 

McKay chuckled low in his throat, the noise sounding rusty and grating, and  
ended in a grunt of pain. "I think I'll go for a walk," he croaked.

 

With an angry noise and sharp jab, Beckett finished his fussing. "If you decide  
to do anything about this, yell." He walked off in an angry huff.

 

"When did I start laughing in the face of my imminent death?" Rodney asked, arms  
crossed in front of him tightly.

 

McKay's small smile dropped from his face and he nodded at Rodney. "You know  
when."

 

"Oh right," Rodney sneered. "I forgot I'm three steps from insanity. Did you  
tell him," he pointed to John, "that?"

 

John pushed Rodney's finger out of the way. "I pretty much figured it out on my  
own, thank you." A few feet away, he made eye contact with McKay, his lips  
twisting into what he hoped was a comforting expression. "How're you feeling?"

 

McKay gestured drowsily to the IV bag. "Carson broke out the good stuff."

 

"Right," John said tightly. "I'll just--" he gestured vaguely at the doors.

 

McKay nodded; his eyes half closed, and John couldn't stand it any more, so he  
left, his feet moving swiftly under him. He couldn't be there for McKay, he  
could barely be there for himself and it was nauseating.

 

He made it to his room and fell against the door, eyes shut tightly. His chest  
burned with each deep breath and he punched the wall with every exhale until the  
sharp pain translated all the way to his elbow.

 

He should have known really, from the first moment when McKay's shaking arms had  
wrapped around him so unexpectedly and held on so tightly and something inside  
him had thudded hard and McKay had settled so neatly against him.

 

That was what John had so carefully and painstakingly pushed away, the pounding  
heart, the bit of bile in the back of his throat, the feeling that he could do  
something stupid at any moment. He turned back to the door, elbow drawing back  
and fist swinging forward in one last expression of anger--

 

\--that hit Rodney square in the cheek.

 

He went down with a like a sack of potatoes and John was too stunned to do  
anything but stand there and be pretty grateful he'd made it into the room far  
enough for the door to slide shut again.

 

"Ow!" Rodney yelled, voice muffled from behind his hand. "What in the *hell* was  
that? My nose is broken! You broke my nose!" He was writhing around on the  
ground, rocking back and forth.

 

That snapped John out of his stupor. "I didn't hit your nose, you big baby." He  
knelt on the floor next to Rodney, wincing as he moved Rodney's hands out of the  
way to reveal a large red patch of skin just under his eye. "But all the girls  
are gonna swoon over the black eye."

 

"There goes my 20-20 vision!" Rodney pushed him away.

 

"It was bound to happen sooner or later." John put his hands back, firmly  
grasping Rodney's chin, aiming it so he could see Rodneys cheek clearly. "All  
that squinting at computer screens and all." He brushed his thumb lightly over  
the heated skin. Rodney hissed and flinched away violently. "Sorry," John  
apologized.

 

John found himself pulling Rodney to him; he couldn't stop his arms from  
wrapping around Rodney, holding him tightly. "I'm so sorry," he said again.  
"Sorry." His voice cracked slightly and he clamped his mouth shut.

 

"You should be. You might have hurt my very important brain," Rodney scolded,  
before reaching out and holding John right back, petting down his rib cage  
nervously. "If you cry, I'm posting it on the bbs." He leaned the undamaged  
portion of his face on John's shoulder.

 

Rodney's neck was soft and creased under John's nose and he smelled of sweat and  
coffee and soap and McKay. Somewhere deep inside all of the other scents was  
McKay and it was Rodney and it was perfect and bittersweet. John made a broken  
noise and buried his face into it, breathing deeply.

 

Rodney's smooth skin came alive under Johns lips; each kiss warmed a small  
space from cold to hot, inch by inch. Above him, Rodney gasped and his arms  
spasmed around John, pulling him closer. John kissed his way up, hitting  
stubble, the roughness making his lips tingle. Slowly across Rodney's jaw,  
whisper quick on already too hot skin, blooming with pain just under the  
surface.

 

Rodney's eyes were closed, long lashes dark against flushed skin. His mouth was  
hanging open, lips moist and inviting, and John covered them with his own,  
sucking and pulling and feeling, looking, searching desperately for something.

 

Finally, Rodney tilted his head and groaned into the kiss, lips sealing together  
perfectly and it echoed, just for a second a memory, the ghost of another kiss  
and Rodney's hands were perfect, skimming over his chest and arms and cupping  
one cheek boldly. John wanted to hold on, but Rodney's swelling cheek wouldn't  
let him. Instead John pushed carefully until Rodney went, almost gracefully, to  
the floor, John followed, sinking down on top, just far enough to feel Rodney  
against his front.

 

John's hand splayed hotly on Rodney's hip, holding him steady while Rodney's  
hand buried in his hair. He licked his way inside of Rodney's mouth and  
searched, moving until he could feel it again, a sharp hipbone in his side, the  
faint feel of ribs, Rodney's wondrously healthy body disappearing with John's  
tightly closed eyes.

 

"Rodney," John choked out,. He was hard against Rodney's body, aching and needy  
and the urge to prove he was alive, to prove Rodney and John and McKay were  
alive, was thrumming through his veins.

 

"What?" Rodney stopped beneath him. "What did you say?" His body went from  
pliant to unyielding like a snap of fingers.

 

John looked dazedly at him. Rodney was flushed all over, his lips puffy and  
swollen. "I what?" He asked, not understanding at first. Rodney's shirt was  
askew, revealing pale patches of skin. "Rodney?"

 

Rodney stared at him, blinking rapidly, pulse beating wilding under John's hand.  
"John," he said quietly. "Who are you here with?"

 

John tried to review what had happened. At first all he could remember was warm  
skin and hot kisses and sounds that John just wanted to store away somewhere for  
later viewing. Underneath it all, he could hear his voice, rough and  
embarrassingly laden with emotion, babbling all sorts of things into McKay's  
skin and-- oh god. "McKay," he whispered in an echo of the earlier moment.

 

"Right, I thought so," Rodney said at his stunned silence. "I knew this was a  
bad idea."

 

"Rodney," John said, pressing himself back down, feeling Rodney automatically  
relax against him. "You're right, I'm sorry." John kissed him soundly. "I just,  
in my head, you're the same person."

 

"Are we really?" Rodney asked, already shaking his head. "Because I think that  
says a lot about me, or at least a lot about what you think about me." He tried  
pushing John away, but it wasn't a very heart felt attempt.

 

John pressed down with his whole body, gently easing Rodney a few inches back to  
the ground, and then laid his head on Rodney's shoulder. "You act a little  
differently maybe; the sum of your experiences makes you who you are." He  
breathed deeply, drowning in Rodney's scent. "But everything that makes him  
Rodney makes you McKay, I can see and I can feel it." He tightened his arms  
around Rodney, savoring the feel of familiar topography. "I know it in my head  
and now I'm watching you die--" he stopped, because the words made something  
inside him hurt.

 

Rodney stared at him, hand drawing small circles on John's back. "You love him."

 

"You," John corrected, kissing the words into Rodney's temple. "You moron."  
Under his hands Rodney began shaking heavily. "What?"

 

"Dying," Rodney croaked, hands moving restlessly. "I'm dying, which means  
something didn't work and I failed and I probably messed up the entire  
space-time continuum as well." He started to push up off the floor again, but  
John held him down firmly. Rodney resisted just long enough that when his arms  
finally buckled they both went down with a whoosh, John's now bruised knuckles  
brushed against the floor causing him to suck in a sharp breath of pain..

 

"He's dying," John said reasonably, after he'd caught his breath. "He's not dead  
yet."

 

Rodney rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. "Oh my god, if people don't  
stop quoting that movie, someone is going pay with their coffee rations."

 

"I meant," John pulled Rodney's hand from his face, "there's still time to fix  
things."

 

"As much as they can ever be fixed you mean." Rodney gave him a baleful glare.

 

 

Gathering Rodney tightly to him, John buried his face back in the crook of  
Rodney's neck. "You alive is pretty much the positive outcome I'm looking for  
here and if we could stop talking about it now, that'd be really cool."

 

For once, Rodney didn't utter some scathing retort. He just curled back around  
John and breathed.

 

******

 

They spent a long enough time on the floor that even John was starting to worry  
about the state of his back by the time Rodney gave in and uttered the complaint  
he'd probably been holding back since the first time John had pinned him there.  
It had been long enough that Rodney's eye had started to swell and John could  
see him avoiding certain facial expressions.

 

"You should really get that looked at." John's fingers hovered carefully over  
Rodney's face, the heat coming off the injury making him feel embarrassed. "I  
swung pretty hard."

 

"I know." Rodney's fingers brushed John's away and pushed gently at the skin. "I  
can still feel my face vibrating from the residual kinetic energy."

 

John nodded at the door. "Come on." He moved to let Rodney walk out first and  
winced at Rodneys first lumbering steps. "Try not to limp; this is going to  
look bad enough."

 

Rodney looked back at him with a scathing glare. "My back is very sensitive and  
the floors here on Atlantis are hardly stunning examples of orthopedic  
excellence." His face softened anyway. "I promise not to let anyone but me press  
charges."

 

"Comforting someone is just second nature to you, Rodney." John patted him on  
the shoulder.

 

They entered the infirmary, both of them gravitating towards the curtained off  
area in the back. There was only quiet behind the white free standing curtain  
and it make John swallow harshly.

 

"He's asleep and I'll not have you waking him up," Beckett said from behind  
them.

 

They both whirled in surprise but before either of them could get a word out  
Beckett began pushing Rodney towards an open exam table.

 

"What on earth did you do to yourself?"

 

"I walked into a door," Rodney snapped. "What do you think happened?"

 

Beckett dropped his hands and turned to John. "Now, Colonel, I understand the  
urge, really, but I'll have to ask you to find other ways of expressing your  
frustration."

 

After reassuring Beckett that Rodney's colorfully black eye was in no way  
intentional, Rodney was handed some Advil and told to stop whining about the  
loss of peripheral vision.

 

"But I need my peripheral vision!" Rodney explained, even as John pulled him out  
the door. "Have you seen who I go off world with? I'll be killed!" He then waved  
expansively at John's now swelling right hand. "At least fix him, so that when I  
miss the large, cave bound native running at me, he'll still be able to shoot  
straight."

 

******

 

John and his newly wrapped knuckles found themselves following Rodney around,  
sticking closely to him. For the most part, Rodney just looked at him a little  
funny, got an almost doe-eyed look and said that John was following him around  
because his job didn't involve much more work than toting a gun and grunting.

 

Smiling faintly, John slouched comfortably against a nearby wall and let his  
eyes do an up and down number as he slowly licked his lips. Rodney flushed and  
ducked his head away.. "Yeah, that's me, Rodney, grunt extraordinaire."

 

The urge to plaster himself up along Rodney's side and set up camp didn't  
subside and made him feel twitchy, but he managed to distract himself with some  
of the cool new toys that had been cleared for him to play with.

 

Rodney settled himself into his work station and took up, what seemed to John,  
at least three different tasks and from the look on his face, each was more  
frustrating than the last. "Radek, where the hell are the equations from the  
last simulation?"

 

John put his current doodad down and propped his chin on his fist, waiting to  
see how long it took for Rodney to stop snapping his fingers and look up from  
his computer screen.

 

"Radek!"

 

A minute and a half; must be interesting stuff.

 

"I am right here, Rodney," Zelenka said from the door, walking in, with Grodin  
hot on his heels.

 

Grodin stopped at the edge of the doorway.. His eyes flicked to each individual  
before finally settling back on Zelenka. He took a visible breath and stepped  
inside.

 

"Peter! Great, I've got something you'd be perfect for," Rodney said. He wasn't  
looking at his screen anymore and there was an uncharacteristic nervous twitter  
to his actions.

 

The room became unnaturally silent. Zelenka, Rodney, and the few others working,  
stopped what they were doing and waited. John felt his entire body tense,  
coiling tightly because there was a precipice he couldn't quite see hanging over  
all of them. McKay was dying a painful death and John had a sneaking suspicion  
this was one of the key tangling points.

 

"Well then, it's a good thing I'm here," Grodin said eventually.

 

Zelenka smiled, wide and dangerous. He clapped Grodin gently on the arm. "Good  
man. Rodney here is getting a bit uppity and we could use another clear-headed  
individual."

 

"I can't promise clear-headed when it comes to Dr. McKay," Grodin pronounced  
gravely.

 

Rodney sputtered for effect, but John could see the sparkle in his eyes. "Well  
then, get to it!" He all but threw a computer at Grodin.

 

John once again slid to the back of the room, watching the rhythm come back to  
the science team, a nostalgic set of noise and motion. Despite the fact that he  
rarely spent more than an entire afternoon in the place more than once every ten  
days or so, John recognized it as the sound of something sliding correctly into  
place.

 

He resumed his steady progress through the pile of Ancient artifacts. Sure there  
were others who could do this as well, but when John did it, things went quicker  
and had a better likelihood of success. Besides, this way he got dibs on all of  
the cool stuff.

 

A small, elongated object caught John's attention next. It reminded him a little  
of a green kryptonite crystal from Superman, only smaller, palm sized even, with  
a flat underside. He touched it carefully, feeling through the ancient  
interface.

 

"Rodney." Beckett's voice startled all of them. He stood in the doorway,  
grim-faced and looking sick.

 

John knew without needing to be told. "No." He shook his head. "No you should  
have called me-- us."

 

Rodney's coffee cup clattered to the ground, the brown liquid spilling over the  
floor in a slow crawl. "What happened?" His voice cracked halfway through the  
question.

 

"I couldn't even begin to tell you," Beckett admitted. "Rodney, I'm so sorry,  
but he kept getting sicker and I couldn't keep up with which illness he had  
anymore."

 

"He failed," John said quietly.

 

"I wouldn't say that." Zelenka bent to pick up the coffee cup, carefully  
cleaning the spilled liquid. "Go pay your respects; we will manage on without  
you."

 

Rodney nodded slowly and moved off to join Beckett. John went too, but it was  
like walking through water and all he could think about was how he'd been so  
sure there was still time to figure it all out. Now he was left with nothing but  
conflicting feelings and a sense of guilt.

 

They viewed the body together. McKay, laying too still and too pale in his bed  
tucked away in a private corner. John who had spent so much time around him in  
sleep knew instantly that this stillness was different. Beckett left them alone.

 

"He looks so," Rodney said from his small little corner, "not me."

 

"Yeah," John agreed roughly, reaching out a hand to gently trace McKay's brow.  
"Thank you," he said carefully. It was all he could think of.

 

"Rodney, this is Radek," the radio crackled in their ears. "I do not wish to  
disturb you but Peter has come upon something interesting that I think you need  
to see."

 

John shook his head, feeling cloudy. "Go on, Rodney," he said when he saw the  
look of indecision on the Rodneys face.

 

"Right," Rodney said. "I'll just--" He stopped, hands clasped together firmly.  
He looked at the closed-off curtain and then darted forward for a quick hug,  
just a tight squeeze of arms that was so unexpected John didn't have enough  
brains inside him to respond. "I uh--" he pointed to the door. "You know where  
to find me," Rodney finished, and darted out.

 

John watched him go, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth despite the  
heavy feeling in his chest. He turned back to McKay, intent on just trying to  
understand, though if pressed to say what, he'd never be able to tell.

 

He was staring so hard he nearly missed it.

 

A twitch of thumb that nearly gave him a heart attack. His eyes immediately  
flicked towards nonexistent monitors. Beckett had cleaned McKay up before they'd  
gotten there.

 

John knew things about dead bodies, knew there were sometimes strange twitches  
and sounds and activity that could not in any way be associated with actual  
life. That didn't stop him from hoping.

 

Still, when McKay's eyes went wide and he made the most horrible sound John had  
ever heard while gasping for air, John yelled loudly, "Beckett! Get back here  
now!"

 

He'd never seen the doctor so flustered in his life. The orders however were  
snapped out briskly and clearly to his nurses and John was shoved to the  
background. He watched them all run around frantically checking on things,  
giving drugs, and looking flat out astonished. John himself thought really hard  
about hysteria. It seemed like a good choice.

 

"Colonel Sheppard, you're needed in the control room."

 

John recognized the tone of voice that came over the comms, the oh shit  
something bad is about to happen kind of frantic that always made his  
adrenaline pump. He got his shaking legs under himself again, made eye contact  
with Beckett, who nodded him off, and double timed it to the control room.

 

******

 

John walked into controlled chaos. People were shouting information left and  
right and Elizabeth was in the middle nodding quickly, bent over a computer with  
Rodney and Zelenka.

 

"What's going on?" John asked.

 

"It's a surprise party and someone invited the Wraith; two cruisers and a  
handful of darts to be precise," Rodney answered, not looking up. "And we don't  
have a new working model of a ZedPM to play with."

 

"Can we cloak?"

 

"Working on it," Rodney muttered. "But it's not as easy as snapping our fingers,  
Colonel."

 

John moved to the long-range sensors. "How close are they and how come we didn't  
see them before now?"

 

"It's 10,000 year old technology," Zelenka said. "Maybe it is behind on  
maintenance?"

 

"Or maybe," Rodney said, looking pissed over his keyboard. "The Wraith have  
learned a trick or two all on their own. After all they at least understand  
their own technology and while both sides have been static for a very long time,  
that sort of thing tends to lead to an advantage."

 

"Either way," John said tensely, "I don't like that they're coming to take a  
look."

 

"It's not exactly on the list of things that I appreciate about them either,"  
Elizabeth agreed.

 

"I'll get some jumpers in the air and--" the long range scanner went white.  
"What the hell?"

 

Rodney was there instantly pushing him out of the way. "What the hell?" He  
pressed on a few keys, taking readings before standing up and looking puzzled.  
"They're gone."

 

"Cloaked?" Elizabeth asked.

 

John's stomach clenched, because that would be really bad.

 

"No." Rodney shook his head. "Gone. As in, exploded, dead, itty bitty Wraith  
bits will be burning up into the atmosphere for weeks. Gone."

 

"Well," John said conversationally, leaning heavily on a nearby console. "Not  
that I mind, but I sort of feel cheated."

 

"What are you, insane?" Rodney's look said 'I'm measuring you for a comfortable  
white jacket with lots of buckles'.

 

"Dr. Weir," the gate technician called. "We're getting a signal."

 

"From who?" Rodney demanded.

 

"Um well-" The gate tech looked very reluctant to speak.

 

John smiled; he had a very good feeling. "Put him on the speakers."

 

"Yes, sir." The technician pressed a few buttons. "On speakers."

 

"You're a very good shot," John said into the microphone.

 

"You bet your ass I am," his voice said back.

 

John relaxed into a nearby chair. "So you were just in the neighborhood, huh?"

 

"Well see, I've got this new car I'm testing out and it's no good unless you hit  
the highways."

 

"Oh god." Rodney sounded horrified. "There's two of you."

 

"Karma's such a bitch," John said smugly.

 

******

 

The puddle jumper that landed in the jumper bay looked like every other jumper  
they had. There weren't even any extra dents or scrapes. John, Rodney, and  
Elizabeth converged on it and waited as the hatch opened slowly.

 

Inside John saw the outline of a figure, leaning artfully against the side wall  
waiting for the hatch to finish moving. "What, no party?" the shadow said.

 

Rodney threw his hands up in disgust. "Sorry, but the caterer quit last week."

 

The older Sheppard stepped into the light. He was grayer, approaching salt and  
pepper, and had gained a few extra wrinkles and a light scar that John didn't  
recognize, but all in all, looking fit. He walked casually up to John and stuck  
his hand out. "General John Sheppard." He bounced a bit, eyebrows waggling at  
John's shocked expression. "I know, I can't believe they did it either."

 

"Doomed!" Rodney all but wailed. "Doomed I tell you."

 

General Sheppard shook his head at Rodney, amusement clear on his face. "Rodney,  
you have no idea."

 

"General Sheppard." Elizabeth stepped forward. "It's good to meet you." She took  
his hand and shook it firmly. "Very good."

 

"Good to be here," Sheppard answered. "Now, I believe there's a wayward  
scientist hanging around?"

 

Rodney's face immediately dropped and John realized that there hadn't been any  
time to tell him, or to even check in on McKay. "General," John quickly stepped  
in, "he hasn't exactly had an easy time. Hes in the infirmary." John could see  
Sheppard's shoulders stiffen, and he paused, unsure how to deliver the next bit  
of news. "He died on us for a few minutes there."

 

Rodney frowned at him. "What do you mean for a few minutes?"

 

"You got called away before all the excitement," John explained. "But he scared  
the crap out of me when he woke up."

 

"But he's alive?" General Sheppard asked, eyes hard.

 

"Last time I checked," John answered, hoping nothing had changed since he'd  
left.

 

******

 

Walking through the hallways was a trip that John actually enjoyed a bit. The  
double takes were kind fun, and that last spit take had almost hit Caldwell  
right in the face. Caldwell was too busy staring to even notice John trying very  
hard not to laugh.

 

They arrived to find Beckett chatting happily with McKay, who looked very much  
alive. Tired, but alive.

 

Rodney stumbled to a halt at the sight. "Oh my god, I turned into Dr. Jackson."

 

"Don't complain," General Sheppard said. "I can think of worse things than  
coming back from the dead."

 

Their conversation attracted McKay's attention, who swung his head away from  
Beckett to look at them, and froze. "John?" he croaked.

 

General Sheppard separated from the pack and settled beside McKay's hospital  
bed. "Hey. Rodney, I hear you've been having a party."

 

"Oh yeah." McKay's voice twisted softly. "It's been a blast."

 

The exchange was so intimate John's own chest ached and he fought the urge to  
avert his eyes.

 

"Rodney," General Sheppard said quietly.

 

"John," McKay said back, voice breaking, he reached out, hand shaking. "Oh my  
god, John how did you-- wait I think know how-- but still I-- I-- you--"

 

"Yeah," General Sheppard nodded. "How soon can we get him out of here, Carson?"

 

There was an odd dissociation at his use of Beckett's first name, but John  
supposed after at least a decade of working closely with someone, being on a  
first name basis wouldn't be so unusual.

 

Beckett sighed the sigh of the put-upon doctor. "Well most of what's left is  
trauma and stress from all that he's been through. I'm assuming you've got a  
competent doctor on your end of things?"

 

"The best." General Sheppard smiled, eyes plastered on McKay.

 

"Then he'll need a bit of time to recover before I'll be comfortable letting him  
go," Beckett answered. "But not too much longer."

 

"Thank you," General Sheppard said to Beckett, and then turned to the rest of  
them. "All of you, really. I doubt he'd admit it, but I'm sure he couldn't have  
done it without you."

 

"I hate it when you talk for me," McKay grumbled, cheerfully pulling off the  
last of the diodes, eyes suspiciously misty and hands shaking "And they were so  
eager to help, how could I say no?"

 

"Now off with all of you." Beckett shooed them out. "There are a few tests I  
still need to run."

 

John was thoroughly unsurprised when General Sheppard didn't exit with them.

 

******

 

It didn't take long for John's knuckles to really start throbbing and the pain  
killer he'd refused earlier was coming back to haunt him. Sighing, he stared at  
the bandages, noting a small spot of blood had seeped through. It was hard to  
keep knuckles immobile enough for the scabs not to rub.

 

Beckett didn't look too surprised to see him, but John could see the tell take  
knowing look as the painkillers were handed to him first thing, before he even  
had a chance to talk. As long as he was there, Beckett also insisted on taking  
another look and a fresh bandage.

 

John distracted himself by studying the slowly moving shadows behind the white  
curtains in the corner. "Hey, how's he really doing?" He asked when Beckett  
finished taping him up.

 

"He'll be fine," Beckett assured him, "especially now."

 

Startled, John looked up at Beckett, but he was already busily putting things  
away.

 

Curiosity and possibly a few other nagging emotions stopped John from leaving  
the infirmary directly, hushed voices, heavy with emotion carried John's feet  
until he stood, hopefully unobtrusively next to the far curtain as it butted up  
against the wall. It curled in on itself giving John just enough space to see  
two figures, heads bent together. General Sheppard was sitting in a chair,  
leaning forward, propping himself up with his hand, which was pressed into the  
bed next to McKay.

 

"that's a long time," General Sheppard said quietly, "how much do you  
remember?"

 

"I don't know anymore," McKay answered. His hand was wrapped tightly around  
General Sheppard's. "There are things I know that happened, I told myself about  
some of them, I'm almost tempted to ask now."

 

"I can't believe you did all this," General Sheppard pulled gently on McKay's  
hand and brought it to his lips. "It was insane."

 

"I was insane." McKay pulled his hand back, the General coming with it, standing  
and then leaning until their lips brushing tenderly. "John I can't do this  
again, okay?" He said when they parted.

 

John pulled back from the curtain feeling like an intruder, but he couldn't help  
take one last look. He found they had returned to their original positions,  
still leaning close, hands tightly held together. McKay was laying back into his  
bed, eyes closed, listening to General Sheppard's quiet murmurings, and the  
beginnings of a smile gracing his lips

 

******

 

General Sheppard and McKay didn't stick around long after that. John could see  
the tightly held movements in McKay's frame as well as a similar restraint in  
his own. They were being discreet, but they sure as hell didn't want to be.

 

Hours later, alone in the jumper bay, John and Rodney found themselves facing  
their older versions.

 

"John," McKay said, stepping forward, obviously addressing John and not the  
General. "I-- there are--"

 

"Thanks for keeping the husband sane," General Sheppard interrupted. "I'm not  
too upset about how."

 

McKay elbowed him in the side. "Even I know there were better ways to do that."

 

John and Rodney were too busy squeaking "husband?" to take too much notice of  
their companions.

 

"Well, life partners just sounded kind of gay." General Sheppard patted John  
consolingly on the shoulder. "Really, it's not as bad as it sounds."

 

"You know, self-fulfilling prophesies aren't actually a proven thing," McKay  
grumbled, and then pointed an accusing finger at Rodney, "and I don't know why  
you're so shocked. You knew."

 

"You knew?" John looked at Rodney who was staring anywhere but at him.

 

"A ring," Rodney said frantically. "I was shown a ring, it could have meant  
anything!"

 

******

 

After General Sheppard and McKay they were gone and there was only one of each  
of them again, Rodney looked far more relaxed. "Well, it's a lot harder to mess  
with the timeline if there's no one actually changing it," Rodney explained.

 

" I guess this proves it," John said casually, noting they were walking towards  
his quarters.

 

"Proves what?"

 

John opened the door for them. "The future is what you make of it."

 

Rodney nodded, then paused abruptly. "You did not just say that."

 

"Just because you disagree with the technology in the movie," John said  
reasonably, "doesn't mean you should ignore the philosophy as well."

 

"I bet you that was his pet puddle jumper." Rodney sighed theatrically.

 

"It was," John said knowingly. "And her name is going to be Delorean."

 

"I cannot believe I married you," Rodney grumbled, pinching the bridge of his  
nose.

 

John really couldn't believe it either, for a whole lot of really expansive and  
difficult reasons that had little to do with Rodney himself. "Oh you so can." He  
sat on his bed and patted the space next to him expectantly.

 

"Can not." Rodney said, sitting next to him. "I was probably half insane when  
you proposed, years of exposure to your radioactive personality." They leaned  
together, shoulder's touching lightly, thighs warm against each other.

 

"What makes you think I proposed?" John slipped a hand behind Rodney's head,  
fingers sliding downs his neck, heavy pulse thrumming under John's touch. "Other  
than the fact I think you'd make an excellent bride."

 

Rodney made an indignant sound that quickly transformed into a half moan when  
John's mouth covered his own. As kisses went, it was a bit awkward, but sweet  
and perfect never the less. Small, firm kisses followed until they were firmly  
pressed against each, holding tight. Rodney rested his forehead against John's  
shoulder. "You do know that if you die, I might just go a little insane?"

 

"I figured that out, yes." John said, carding his fingers through Rodney's hair.

 

"Also," Rodney looked up frowning, "I look horrible in white."

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always loved and appreciated.


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